


Planned Impossibilities

by Mollz



Series: Calculated Insanities series [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Beware inconsistent updating, Fury is a dick, Gen, Loki does NOT just get off the hook for what he's done, Not Slash, finished work, sciencebros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollz/pseuds/Mollz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The universe has rules. </p><p>Sometimes, people are mistaken about what those rules are. (Humans can't learn magic.)</p><p>Sometimes, you can find a creative work-around. (Thanos destroys everything in his path.)</p><p>Sometimes, it turns out that the rules contradict each other. (F = G * (m1*m2)/(r^2) + Flight spells.)</p><p>But there are still a few rules that are supposed to be hard and fast. (People don't come back from the dead.)</p><p>And those are the rules that Tony Stark takes as a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony Stark knows how to make an entrance.

**Author's Note:**

> I got such a great response to the first work in this series, Calculated Insanities, that I've finally sat down and decided to write a sequel. Hope it's everything you dreamed of!

It had been almost two years since Tony Stark disappeared.

Not much had changed in the intervening years. The remaining Avengers still lived in the tower; Steve, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Thor. Loki did not. Loki had vanished shortly after Tony, and they had yet to find him again. Bruce had Jarvis scan every day, but Jarvis never found any trace of him. Neither did SHIELD.

They still fought battles, when battles needed fighting. But it was a kind of stasis, a routine. For the most part, things didn't change.

It had been almost two years since Tony Stark disappeared, when the wormholes started appearing.

They were small, the size of a hand. Nothing ever came out of them. They would appear, at some random place anywhere in the world, hanging in midair. They would last for ten minutes, and then go away again. At first, the Avengers went to investigate every one. But the wormholes lasted so breifly that they never got there in time. And after a while, when it became apparent that the wormholes weren't doing anything, weren't hurting anyone, just kind of hung there, the Avengers stopped going to see them.

There were pictures and videos floating around the internet, and Bruce checked them every so often. Scientists were baffled. For a few months, reporters thought it was the most exciting thing ever to happen, but after a while, they stopped reporting on it. It became ordinary. Strange, but nonthreatening. Not as important as wars and the economy and every other thing in the world.

You couldn't see through the wormholes. They had a cloudy blackness obscuring whatever was on the other side. They exuded strong heat, like an open flame.

And that was that. The wormholes.

* * *

  
It had been almost three years since Tony Stark disappeared.

And finally, the wormholes did something. One of them came up in the middle of Central Park, and hung there. Past ten minutes. Past twenty. Half an hour passed, and it just hung there.

The news networks took notice. Scientists began to converge on it. Readings were taken, excited theories were hissed. People started paying attention again. Two hours passed. It suddenly got bigger. Three hours passed. Bigger again. Big enough for a man to step through.

And then a man did. 

A wave of force pulsed out from the wormhole, knocking back all the scientists trying to study it. The crowd moved away, and watched, tense, as a man stumbled out of the wormhole. He was wearing a welder's mask and a leather chestplate, but there was no sign that he was anything other than human. 

"Now!" He shouted back at the wormhole. It shrunk back to the size of a hand, then vanished into thin air.

The man turned in a circle, looking at the crowd.

"Huh." He said. His voice was hoarse. "It worked. I can't believe that actually worked."

"Who are you?" A reporter asked, edging closer with her microphone.

The man flipped his welding mask up, and gasps ran through the crowd. The reporter stared, trying to maintain composure.

"Is that thing on?" Tony Stark asked, gesturing to the camera.

The reporter nodded, dumbstruck.

He turned to the camera. "So, the afterlife is real." He said. "I dunno about you, but I found that _super interesting_."

He swayed on the spot, and grabbed hold of the reporter for stability.

"Like, a literal place." He continued. "Where you literally go. When you die. _Afterlife_. Right? I need coffee. I really, really need coffee. Whoever gets me coffee can have an interview."


	2. Tony Stark adjusts quickly.

A lot of loud, unimportant things happened, but now he was backstage at some kind of news place. He had downed six cups of coffee and counting. Every new cup was like a blessing from god. He hadn't had coffee in so long.

He'd managed to negotiate for an hour's preparation before the interview. He had borrowed a phone from a starstruck janitor and was calling the only number he had memorized.

"Hey, Jarvis?"

There was a beat, and then, " _Sir._ " Tony had to stop for a second, stunned at the emotion there.

"Yes. Yeah." Tony said. "Uh, right. Hi, buddy. So, could you just, uh, pretend like I have no memory of anything since Afghanistan? And then fill me in on the most important things that have happened since then?"

"Sir?" Jarvis asked. He was hesitant. Worried. And wasn't that fucking weird enough. Tony did not remember Jarvis being this emotional.

"I just got back from Hell, I'm allowed to have lapses." Tony snapped. "Look, I've got to do an interview, could you please just...I don't want to be blindsided, here."

"Of course." Jarvis said, back to his normal calm. "Forgive me, sir. But if I may insist on the code word..."

"We don't have a code word." Tony said. "We spent two weeks trying to think of one and realized that _not_ having one is the last thing people would expect of me."

"Very good, sir." Jarvis said. "After you invented a miniaturized arc reactor and the Iron Man suit in Afghanistan, you were rescued by Colonel Rhodes and returned to New York. You gave a press conference saying you were shutting down all Stark Industries weapons production."

"Right, I'm with you so far." Tony said. "After that."

"You greatly improved on the Iron Man suit, although you kept it under wraps. You began using it to track down terrorists and attracted attention. Obidiah Stane betrayed you-"

"Wait." Tony said, mind grinding to a halt. "What?"

Jarvis spoke with more care. "Obidiah Stane was the man behind your original kidnapping." He said. "Eventually he tried again and removed the arc reactor from your chest, paralyzed you and left you to die. He created his own Iron Man suit, and you and Miss Potts fought and killed him."

Tony fell back into his chair. "Jesus." He whispered. He felt a strong pain in his chest, and tears welled in his eyes. He wiped them away, angrily. "Jesus Fucking Christ, Obie--that fucking _bastard_."

"I'm sorry, sir." Jarvis said.

"No, keep going." Tony said. "Keep going, come on. I need to do this. I can't have a breakdown on air learning this shit. I don't know what will come up."

"You had a press conference, where you revealed to the world that you were Iron Man." Jarvis said. "You faced court hearings and your relationship with Colonel Rhodes was strained for a while, but he remains a true friend. You began dating Miss Potts. And then Shield approached you with the Avengers Initiative."

"Who approached me?"

"Shield, sir. The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, run by Director Fury. It's a government organization specializing in keeping the unbelievable, supernatural, or terrible out of the public eye, and fighting it. You were offered a consulting position on the Avengers Initiative. You refused at first, but you were being slowly poisoned by the Palladium in your reactor and Shield helped you find an alternative, so you accepted the position."

"What's the Avengers Initiative?"

"A group of people with extraordinary abilities, who could come together in times of dire need and save the world. You were fond of calling them a 'super hero boy band'."

"Yeah, that sounds like me." He said. "Give me the rundown?"

"Bruce Banner, a gamma radiation scientist who gained the ability to transform into a monster called the Hulk when angry. Steve Rogers-"

"No fucking way." Tony said.

"Formally known as Captain America, who was discovered in an iceberg-"

"No. Fucking. Way." Tony said, firmly.

"And brought back to the world of the living, with no memory of the intervening years. Thor, an alien from the realm known as Asgard, and most likely the person behind all the myths of Norse Gods. A spy named Natasha Romanov, known to the public as Black Widow. And an archer named Clint Barton, known to the public as Hawkeye. The latter two were members of Shield before they joined the Avengers."

"I don't even." Tony said, shaking his head.

There was banging on the door.

"I've got half an hour left!" Tony shouted at the door.

There was a pause, and then the door burst open. Tony jerked backwards, as a man bolted forward with a wild look in his eyes. He had fluffy brown hair, disheveled and messy, and skewed glasses. He was cute, Tony reflected, but he was also breathing heavy and staring at Tony with an awe that made him uncomfortable.

"Can I...help you?" Tony asked.

"No." The man said sharply. "This is not the time for fucking jokes, Stark, oh my god, you're alive, how are you alive-"

He moved forward and shoved his hand under the leather armor on Tony's chest, feeling for a heartbeat. The way he did it, so naturally, like touching Tony was _nothing_ , was _normal_ , gave pause.

"Jarvis..." Tony said slowly, raising the phone back to his ear. "Which one is this?"

"Bruce Banner, sir."

Banner stopped dead. He removed his hand.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"It's nothing." Tony said, trying to play it off with an easy smile. A practiced smile. "Just a little confused, you know how death is-"

"Do you remember me?" Banner asked.

"Of course I do, don't be ridiculous, Mister Banner."

"Doctor." Banner said, the smile gone from his face. "Doctor Banner, Tony. You would know that. You invited me to live with you, you know who I am."

"I-wait, what?" Tony said. "We're not...are we-" He looked down at his hand, then at Banner's.

"We're not married." Banner said. "Oh my god, Tony. No. We're not dating. You invited everybody to live with you. You don't remember? Are you even Tony Stark?"

He was going defensive now, getting cagey and scared, and that wasn't good.

"Of course I am." Tony snapped. "Who else would I be?"

"An illusion." Banner said. "A shapeshifter. There are, so many things. You're not, are you. This is a trap. Shit." He fumbled for his phone.

"I don't remember, okay." Tony said loudly. "Put the phone down. I don't. Remember. I know I'm Tony Stark, I know I went down in Afghanistan and I was tortured and I built a suit to escape and I miniaturized an arc reactor with scraps and then it just _stops_ and I need to figure out what the fuck is going on."

"What's Pepper's real first name?" Banner asked.

"Virginia." Tony said immediately.

"When's her birthday?" Banner asked.

"It, uh..." Tony sighed. "Fuck. Jarvis, when's Pepper's birthday?"

"No, never mind. That's good. You wouldn't know that." Banner said. "What color is Hulk?"

"What color?" Tony asked, blankly.

"What's your father's name?"

Tony grimaced. "Howard Stark." He said.

"Mother?"

"Maria Stark." He said.

"At what age were you first kidnapped?"

"Hang on, how do _you_ know these things?" Tony protested, feeling defensive. "This is personal shit, Banner, are you sure we're not dating?"

"What age?"

"Seven. I was seven."

"Who is Loki?"

"I don't know, I don't fucking know!" Tony said, getting irritated. "I don't remember, okay, I'm trying and it's just not there!"

"Who is Colonel Rhodes?"

"A friend of mine, who got into the military and ruins my parties." Tony said. "How many more questions are you going to ask?"

"Who is Phil Coulson?"

And that was like a kick to the teeth. Tony actually physically reeled backwards, stunned.

"Tony?"

"Coulson." Tony whispered. He looked down at his torso. He was still wearing the leather armor, with a button up shirt underneath. He started ripping the armor off. Banner watched on, confused. When it was off, he unbuttoned his shirt and took that off, too.

There it was. On his upper bicep, in neat, dark lettering.

_You promised Agent Coulson a way home._

Tony stared at it, then at Bruce, and then they both stared at it.

"He was there." Tony said, very quietly. "He was there, in the afterlife, I saw him, I called him Agent and he said his name was Phil and I pretended to forget but he was _there_ and he was...what the fuck is a Helicarrier, why do I know that he died on a Helicarrier?"

"Good." Bruce said. "That's good. Do you remember anything else?"

"Stabbed in the heart." Tony mused. "By-" Information hit him like a whip crack. "Okay, no, that's not right. Nobody gets stabbed by a god, if anybody gets stabbed by a god it's me, that's a fucking amazing way to say you died."

"You got defenestrated by one." Bruce said. "You have a weird thing about getting hit with windows, Stark."

Tony choked a hysterical laugh at the conviction there, like it was something Bruce had gotten used to.

...when had Banner turned into Bruce, in his head?

"Okay." Tony said, pulling his shirt back on. "Can we, have we established that it's me? Because I've gotten up to descriptions of the Avengers but I really need to hear the rest of this story from Jarvis before I go out there and pretend like I remember what happened. Like, Obie. I could have been blindsided with Obie. I don't know what the hell else I've been up to lately, but it's probably shocking and weird and I need to know ahead of time."

"Loki is Thor's adopted brother, he killed Coulson and tried to take over the entire world by opening a portal that let an alien army fly into New York City." Bruce said. "The military sent a nuke to keep the aliens from spreading, and you threw the nuke through the portal and killed all the aliens. They're called Chitauri. Then you invited the team to live with you. It took a while to get everyone, Steve only moved in just before you died. We took a trip to Thor's world, and they were really condescending so you insulted them and then forced Thor to move out because he was being a racist dick. He's better now. Loki returned, it turned out everything he was doing was under duress and he was being hunted because he failed. You let him into the tower in secret and in exchange he taught you how to do magic."

"Uh huh." Tony said, trying to contain the urge to scream "Bullshit" at the top of his lungs.

"Together you realized that the Chitauri were coming back, and bringing another army that was much bigger. Shield was hiding this, and arrested you for working with Loki. Steve, Natasha and I sprung you from jail, you came up with some way to stop the army and then we all fought them off. You died, and we...actually, we really don't know how that happened. You disappeared in the middle of the fight, the portal closed immediately after, and when we got home you'd written us letters."

"Uh huh." Tony said. "So, Steve Rogers. He's a dick, right? Like, he's actually a terrible person and a pompous jerk."

"You hated each other until you found a way to get him drunk and you both got completely wasted in the living room and you admitted your daddy issues and he called your dad a jackass and from then on you were cool." Bruce said, all in one breath.

Tony rubbed his head. "This is fucking insane." He muttered. "This cannot be my life."

"Do you want to talk to him?"

"Fine." Tony said. "Fuck it, fine, put me on the phone with Captain America, jesus, fine. Fuck."

"I didn't mean the phone." Bruce said. "He's waiting outside the building, I was sent in to see if you were really here."

Tony stared at him, stumped by the idea that his childhood hero and teenage archnemesis was now his close friend, and not very far away.

"Or you could wait until after the interview." Bruce said, gently.

"Uh." Tony said. "Yeah. That. That's a good idea, Bruce. Good idea."

But it wasn't up to him, because the door opened, and there was Captain America, wearing the fucking suit and everything, what the actual fuck, how was this real?

"Tony." Captain America said, and there was a relief in his voice that sent Tony directly into panic mode. He gripped the nearest thing he could find, which turned out to be Bruce's arm.

"Jarvis." He said, into the phone that he had almost forgotten he was holding. "What is the coffee to alcohol ratio in my house right now?"

"It is currently one to two, sir, both heavily stocked."

"I need it to be one to one, and don't get rid of any. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll see you in a few hours, Jarvis." He closed the phone, and then looked up at Captain America. He felt nervous, and then angry, and then finally he just felt frozen.

"Uh." He cleared his throat. "Hi."

Captain America reached out and touched his arm, which made Tony flinch. The Captain's face drew up into a frown, and Tony internally winced.

"What?" Captain America asked.

"I, uh, I need to go." Tony said. He stood up, abruptly. "I've got an interview, I have to, uh, bye."

"Tony-"

Tony was walking as fast as he could out the door. He practically broke into a run once he was in the hallway. He skidded to a stop just off stage. He looked at the watch he'd stolen from a starstruck cameraman. It was almost showtime.


	3. Tony Stark isn't camera-shy.

The interview didn't get very far, but then, Tony didn't really expect it to.

"Hello, I'm here on the air with Tony Stark." The wide-eyed reporter said to the camera. "Who claims he has just returned from the afterlife."

Tony gave a cheery wave to the camera, and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.

"How do we know that you're the real Tony Stark?" The reporter asked.

"What, the charming good looks aren't enough?" Tony asked, grinning easily. "But no, I plan to turn myself over to whichever scientists want a crack at me to prove I'm real. DNA tests, fingerprinting, dental records, whatever they come up with. I don't want there to be doubt about this, I'm absolutely Tony Stark."

"But can I ask you some questions?" The reporter asked. "Just to make sure?"

"That doesn't sound like the smartest way to do this." Tony said. "There'll be all the time in the world to verify my identity, but I don't think we have a lot of time before a shady government organization steps in and demands I stop speaking. Trust me, I know shady government organizations." He smiled a little more pointedly. "We don't get along."

"Right." The reporter said. "Well, Mister Stark, tell me about your time dead, then."

"Okay!" Tony said. "Great, we're getting down to it. I died in the battle, you know, closing the portal. And I woke up in the afterlife."

"Heaven, or Hell?" The reporter interrupted.

"Neither." Tony said. "It was...I guess it was kind of Death's office. Death is an actual person, I mean, and she has an office, and for a few hours we went over everything I ever did that was good or bad, to figure out where I was going."

"Death is a woman?" The reporter asked.

"Yes, she is." Tony said. "She's beautiful. I mean, absolutely terrifying, but beautiful."

"So, where did you end up?" The reporter asked. "Heaven, or Hell?"

"Heaven." Tony said. "At first, I mean. Jeez, no need to look so surprised, guy."

The reporter schooled his features. "I wasn't-"

"Don't worry about it. But, yeah, ended up in Heaven. It was all sort of a sliding scale, like there was a heaven for the almost flawless people, like Ghandi and a bunch of Saints, and then a heaven for generally good people, and one for people who barely squeaked by. There was upward mobility, too. It was understood that if you were nice enough in one of the lower levels, you could get higher. And then there were different Hells, too. One for people who were just petty theives and stuff, who could repent pretty easily, and one for people who did more serious shit like murder, and then one for monsters like Mengele and Genghis Khan, who just ruined things for everybody."

"What about Hitler?"

Tony just stared him down, with his best disappointed look.

"You know where Hitler ended up." He said. "Everybody knows where Hitler ended up. He's in the deepest part of Hell, I really didn't think that had to be said out loud."

"Where did you end up?"

"I was solidly in the category of pretty good." Tony said. "It was nice. Heaven's a nice place. There's tons of shit to do there, almost literally anything you can think of.  Sports, reading, sex, everything. Except science."

"What?" The reporter asked.

"There wasn't any science there." Tony said. "I mean, there were some books, but they only covered up to current human knowledge, and there was nowhere to experiment. That's about when I realized why I couldn't find Nikola Tesla in Heaven."

"What do you mean?" The reporter asked.

"Well, the upward mobility you had to work for, but if you wanted to go to Hell, you could do that just whenever." Tony said. "And Hell had a lot more going for it with science. It had scrap metal. I mean, it also had demons and fire and painful bullshit, and anybody who got there deservedly was in constant agony, but it also had scraps and junk. Hell's where they throw whatever's on you when you die. In Hell, I had discarded cell phones and tablets and some laptops to work with, and all sorts of other stuff. So, I mean, obviously, I decided to build a portal back to Earth."

"Right." The reporter said. "You're saying you got into Heaven, but you traded it for Hell." He looked dubious.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Because that's so much more unbelievable than Heaven and Hell being real places you could actually take a portal to." He said.

"So, where did your father end up, Heaven or Hell?" The reporter asked.

That was a lot more blunt than Tony was expecting. He opened his mouth, mind racing trying to figure out what to say, but thankfully, he was interrupted.

Men in black burst into the studio with guns. They had some weird eagle insignia on their bulletproof vests, and they were clearly high level government agents.

"Turn it off!" One of them shouted.

"What'd I tell you?" Tony said to the reporter, quickly, before the camera shut off.

A few men started heading for him, and Tony braced himself, but there was someone in front of him now, very firmly saying, "Stop."

They stopped.

Tony looked, dazed, at Captain America, who was standing between him and a group of well trained soldiers with guns, holding nothing but a very patriotic shield.

"Uh." Tony said, in his infinite wisdom.

"Stand down, Rogers." There was a very angry looking man with an eyepatch moving forward. "Stark's being taken into our custody until we determine that he is who he says he is."

"And then he'll be charged." Captain America snapped. "For using Loki's help the last time he was alive. I know how this works, Fury."

"If he had explained the situation-"

"You would have called him crazy and arrested him anyway." Captain America finished. He was angry. On Tony's behalf. "I'm taking him back to the tower, and unless you want this all over the newspapers tomorrow along with Shield headquarters address, you will allow it."

The man with the eyepatch, who Tony deduced was "Fury", was certainly living up to his name. He glared at Captain America, then at Tony, who was frozen in his chair and still trying to figure out what was going on.

"When you have to fight him, because it turns out he's not what you desperately want him to be," Fury said, "you're going to regret this conversation."

"I doubt it." Captain America said, icily. He pulled Tony to his feet and started leading him out of the building. Nobody stopped him.


	4. Tony Stark needs coffee.

Bruce was waiting outside with the car. The drive was quiet at first. Tony looked things up on his borrowed phone instead of looking at Bruce or Captain America.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Captain America said quietly, breaking the silence.

Tony looked up, sharply.

"Of course I do!" He said.

"No, Tony, you don't." Captain America said. "You know that I'm Captain America, everybody knows that. You've known that since you were a little kid. You don't remember me, though."

"What makes you say that?" Tony asked, getting a sinking feeling in his gut.

"You're trying to ignore me." He said. "There's not recognition, when you look at me. This is freaking you out. You look startled when I call you Tony."

Tony cursed himself, trying not to flinch when he heard his first name. "Look, Captain-"

"Steve." Captain America said. "My name is Steve. I'm assuming you really are Tony Stark. I mean, I can think of plenty of ways to pretend to be you, but I can't think of any reasons for it. If someone just wanted to infiltrate the team, it'd be a lot better to go for a living member of it, because obviously we're going to be keeping a close eye on you for a while. I can't think of any evil plan that would start with 'pretend to be something impossible, get the entire world's attention on me and be forced to prove my identity multiple times.' What do you remember?"

Tony stared at him, and then smiled, weakly. "I remember Afghanistan." He said. He tapped the blue light that was shining through his shirt. "I remember that I was kidnapped and got an arc reactor in my chest and that I escaped, I remember that Stark Industries doesn't make weapons anymore, but it's all fuzzy after that. Except..."

"What?" The Captain asked.

Tony started unbuttoning his shirt, and pulled it off his shoulder to show the Captain his tattoo. "I remember a man named Coulson." He said. "And I keep getting flashes of things when I think about him. He was there with me, he was helping me build the portals, and I keep remembering things without any context. He got stabbed through the heart. He was on something called a Helicarrier. He was into trading cards. Something something elevator security. Something something a cellist in Portland. He threatened to taze me while I was working on...something important."

"That's good." Steve said. "It's something."

Tony nodded and buttoned his shirt back up. He started to pull up the web on his phone again.

"I'm glad to have you back." Steve said quietly. "Even like this."

Tony didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. He just stared at his phone until they arrived at the massive tower that was apparently his.

* * *

 

They used the private entrance and the private elevator so they didn't run into anyone on their way up. They stopped near the top floor. Steve was standing right next to him, but Bruce was further away, giving him space.

The elevator doors opened, and he had the urge to jam another floor as fast as he could. There were three more people waiting for him, staring at him. A beautiful redhaired woman with two guns, a fucking archer who had an arrow notched, and Pepper. He didn't know who he was more worried about.

Pepper was the first to move. She strode forward and looked at Steve. "Is he..."

Steve nodded.

She hugged Tony, hard. He hugged her back. "Hey." He said. His voice was starting to go back to sounding like he'd been eating gravel. He needed more coffee. "Miss me?"

She stepped back and glared at him. She was crying. "Damn it, Tony."

"Hey, hey." He said. He wiped a tear from her face. "It's okay. Don't get upset that I'm alive, jeez." He smiled at her. She punched him in the arm, which really hurt.

"You died!" She said. "That's why I'm mad, Tony!"

"It's not like I wanted to die." He said. "It just sort of happened."

"I didn't even get to say goodbye to you!" She said, angrily.

"I tried to contact you, but it was a bitch of a time just trying to get the portal to land in the right place." He said. "I had to put all my energy into that. And I had to keep fighting off demons and shit, because I didn't want to accidentally unleash demons onto Earth. That would be bad."

"Would it have really made that much of a difference to land somewhere else?" She asked.

"Yeah." He said. "It would've, actually. There've been so many wormholes to here, it's the only place my underpowered equipment could actually expand one. The whole space barrier is sort of weakened. I should probably see if there's anything I can do about that, actually. You don't want it to be easier to get here by wormhole."

She hugged him again, and kissed him on the cheek. "I missed you." She said softly. And then she stepped back, and let the rest of the assembled get to him.

Which didn't work out so well.

Because the red-haired woman moved next, walked straight up to him, quirked an eyebrow, and asked, "What vodka do I drink?"

Tony blinked, confused. "Uh, I don't..."

And then he was on the ground.

"Jesus, Natasha!" Steve said.

"Wrong answer." The woman, Natasha, said. She dug her heel into his back, eliciting a groan of pain.

"Ow, ow, ow, please stop, ow." Tony said, shutting his eyes tight.

"Stop." Steve said.

"He's not Tony Stark." She said calmly.

"Because he didn't know your favorite drink?" Bruce asked, skeptically.

"He knew it well enough to make it the password to get into his labs when he was arrested." She snapped. "It would be one thing if he couldn't remember which one it was, this man clearly doesn't even recognize the significance. Clint, handcuffs."

Someone squatted down next to him and grabbed his arm roughly, and then fireworks went off behind his eyes. He shouted out in pain. It felt like he'd been burned, like the man's hand was a red hot poker.

The man stopped, drew away, and then poked him again. Tony hissed at the pain. "What are you doing?" He demanded.

"Huh." It was an unfamiliar voice, but Tony knew it must've been the archer's. "It hurts him when I touch him. That's weird."

"Could you stop it?" Tony demanded, when the archer poked him again. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I dunno, Nat. He seems like Tony to me."

"I'm not taking the chance." Natasha said.

The archer handcuffed him, and Natasha finally got off his back. He was flipped over, and propped up. He glared at the archer.

The archer poked Tony's face, and he collapsed, immediately. It didn't hurt, it was like his muscles just stopped working.

"Oh my god, Tony!" Pepper was upset. The paralysis only lasted a second, but in that time, something unlocked in his brain.

He opened his eyes, struggled back into a sitting position, and said, "Could I please get some coffee? I'll drink it through a fucking straw if I have to. I need to stay awake long enough to pass a message along, because when I pass out I'm going to pass out for at least a week."

"What message?" The archer asked, suspiciously.

"It's from Coulson." Tony said. The archer's eyes widened.

"What's Coulson's first name?" Natasha asked.

"Agent." Tony said. He paused. "Sorry. Wrong time to joke. Phil. Phil Coulson."

"You need to find something better than the vodka thing." The archer told Natasha bluntly. "Because he's got me convinced it's him."

"Alright." Natasha said. She squatted down to look Tony in the eyes. "What's my full name?"

"Natasha." Tony said.

"Natasha what?"

Tony looked at her, blankly. He sighed. "Look." He said.

"Why did you kick Thor out of the tower?"

"Look, I don't remember." He said.

She stood up. "There's your proof." She told the archer.

"I'm having memory problems!" He said. "For fuck's sake, you didn't doubt it was me when I got a concussion! I just came back from the dead, I'm allowed to be confused!"

"When did you get a concussion?" She asked.

A puzzle piece slid back into place, sharply. Glass crashing, Hulk, waking up confused, Loki, Bruce, portals.

"Uh." He said. "There was...glass. I got glass in my face. I got blood all over my phone." He was frowning hard, trying to force himself to remember. It was hard. Everything was blurry and unfocussed, like a story he'd heard while drunk.

"What did I spray you with?" Bruce asked.

"Liquid pain." Tony said, automatically. It took his brain a second to remember how he knew that.

"And what happened when you woke up?"

Tony shook his head and focussed as hard as he could. He tried to clear his mind and just remember.

"You divorced me, you asshole!" He exclaimed, staring up at Bruce.

Bruce smiled. Everyone else was confused.

"It's him." He said.

"Look, he's answering about half of these quesions." Steve  said. "Let's just not make the call right now. We'll keep an eye on him, and see if something changes when he's had sleep."

"Fine." Natasha said. "But I'm not taking the handcuffs off."

"That's okay." Tony said. He reached into the part of his brain that had unlocked and prodded it gently, then brought his hands in front of him. The handcuffs were hanging from one wrist, and the other one was free. "I just remembered how to do magic."

The archer had his bow up immediately, and an arrow pointed directly at Tony's face. Natasha had her gun out, pointed at the floor.

Tony held up his hands in the surrender position. "Come on, seriously." He said. "I'm not going to shoot lightning. I know, like, eight things, and none of them could hurt someone. I mean, the tiny flame might sting a little, but I never figured out how to throw it..." He shrugged.

The archer lowered his bow, and put the arrow away. Natasha didn't put away her gun.

"If it's alright with you guys, I'm going to go make a shitton of coffee so I don't pass out." Tony said. He slowly got to his feet, making sure not to make any sudden movements. He could feel the exhaustion wearing on him, catching up on him. He needed to get a little ahead of it, just a little more. He had to give the message now, because he was almost certain he wouldn't remember it if he fell asleep.

He headed for the machine in the kitchen that looked the most like a coffee maker. His brain turned to autopilot. He knew where the coffee was. His hands started making it without his input. His muscle memory was still intact.

He waited impatiently for the coffee to finish brewing, then turned around. The others had mostly migrated over to the sitting area. Natasha was still standing nearby, keeping a close eye on him.

He grabbed a mug, picked up the entire pot of coffee, and brought them both over to the table. He fell into a chair and felt dangerously close to falling asleep. He quickly poured himself some coffee. It was scalding on his tongue, which was good--it helped wake him up.

"Alright." He said. He cleared his throat. "Message from Coulson. Let's do this."


	5. Tony Stark has a bad case of selective memory.

"Point the first." Tony said grandly, gesturing with his not-coffee-holding hand. "Redemption. Redemption is real. No matter how badly you've fucked up, you can be saved. And not in the wishy washy 'come attend our specific denomination and Jesus gives you a fistbump' way."

"These are Coulson's words?" The archer asked, skeptically.

"No." Tony said. "I'm paraphrasing. I did my best, but I couldn't memorize everything. I just got the jist of some of this. There was some weird metaphor I was supposed to use." Tony's eyes glazed over for a moment. He sipped his coffee and racked his brains.

"Ledger!" He said, feeling a twinge of relief for having remembered it. "He said, 'it doesn't matter how much red you've got in your ledger if you spend the rest of your life honestly trying to make it back to black.' I thought it was a weird way to phrase it, but crazy vodka chick seems to be having some kind of reaction, so I guess it means something I'm not aware of."

Tony gestured to Natasha, who was sitting very still all of a sudden.

"He also said...fuck, how did he...okay. 'Saving people who have only shown you cruelty is extra credit, not the final exam. It's what makes you a saint, it's not a prerequisite to be a good person.'"

That point seemed to catch the archer's attention. He was taking deep breaths, looking down at his lap to stare at his hands, which were compulsively fiddling with things.

"I think that was all for the first point." Tony said. "Point two. Killing's not black and white. Of course you should avoid it when you can, but some people need to be stopped." He remembered that he was supposed to stare at Steve after delivering that line, so he did. Steve looked away and rubbed his neck, conflicted and hesitant.

"And nobody really ends, the afterlife exists. So don't kill yourself with guilt over it. Yes, I mean you, Banner."

Bruce looked up sharply.

Tony shrugged. "I'm just repeating this shit. I dunno why he called you out."

"I do." Bruce said quietly. He was wearing a faint smile.

"Right, then." Tony said. "I think those were just the openers, this is where shit gets important." He finished his cup of coffee and poured himself another one. "Point the third. Shield."

That caught everybody's interest.

"Be very careful." Tonly said. "Be very, very careful. Fury would never have started a project like the Avengers Initiative without a break-glass-in-case-of-emergency plan to end it. He's got a way to take down all of you, and a hundred and one ways to create tensions and break you apart. Don't underestimate him. Fury's a friend, and I don't want to believe he'd go down the wrong path, but he can be a bit stubborn and obtuse  at times-"

The archer snorted. "A bit." He repeated.

"And I started questioning Shield's integrity before I died. I don't want to say they're compromised, and I don't want to believe they are. But it's something that needs to be looked into, from the outside."

"Okay." Steve said. "That's good to know."

"Good." Tony said. "Because most of that really didn't make sense to me."

"Anything else?" Steve asked.

"Two more things." Tony said. "These ones, he made me memorize word for word. Give me a second." He drank deeply from his coffee and cleared his throat.

He let off a long string of words in what sounded like Russian. It was basically muscle memory, so practiced and rehearsed that it flowed out without thought. He had no idea what it meant, but he had a vague memory of Coulson telling him that it would convince people that the message was actually from Coulson.

By the time he finished, Natasha and the archer were visibly shaken. They turned to each other.

"That's him." The archer said.

"Yeah." Natasha said, nodding slowly. "That's him."

"Oh my god." The archer said. " _That's him._ " He ran his hands through his hair. " _Holy shit._ "

"Yes." Natasha said.

" _Jesus._ " The archer said loudly.

"Uh-huh." Natasha said.

"You two done?" Tony asked. "There was one more thing. I really want to fall unconscious, this coffee is not helping as much as I hoped it would." He took a long sip anyway.

"Go ahead." Steve said.

"Here goes." Tony said. He closed his eyes. "Portals are not doors. You don't just walk through. There are consequences. Stark did the math, and it looks like going through is going to mess with his brain pretty badly, specifically his memory." Tony paused and frowned, because that was concerning. "To minimize this, we're going to protect parts of his brain behind triggers. There are people, places, and situations that will unlock his memories. If he's remembered this message, he's already come into contact with Clint."

Tony opened his eyes. "Oh man, _that's_ your name!" He told the archer.

Clint looked affronted. "Seriously?" He asked.

"It's been bugging the hell out of me." Tony said. And then he stopped and giggled a little at the unintentional pun. Sleep deprivation was catching up with him at a dead sprint.

"Keep going." Steve said.

"Right." Tony said. He closed his eyes and found his place in the message again. "He's already come into contact with Clint. I don't know what the triggers are, only he knows that. He should have some idea after he's slept. But the longer he spends alive, the less he'll remember the afterlife, and the harder it will be to figure out how to create a portal back. Time is of the essence. If he actually plans to hold to his promises, he needs to do it quickly. And then he needs to find a way to keep people from portalling to New York City, because of something to do with 'Space Voldemort'. I couldn't follow most of that."

"Well, that's not good." Bruce noted.

"Who is 'Space Voldemort'?" Tony asked, mystified.

"It's a long story." Bruce said. "Was there anything else?"

"Uh...I don't think so." Tony said slowly. "I'm pretty sure that was the end." He set his coffee cup down and slumped back in his chair.

"Don't you want to go to bed?" Bruce asked.

"I don't think-" Tony yawned strenuously. "Uh. I don't think my legs are going to support me if I try to walk. I'll just sleep here."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "We're putting you to bed." He said firmly. "You're not sleeping in that chair."

"Well, I'm not moving." Tony said.

And then Bruce picked him up, bridal style.

"Woah, shit, what?" Tony demanded. "Put me down!"

"I told you." Bruce said. "We're putting you to bed."

Tony tried to push him away, but he held firm. Tony wriggled weakly until Bruce dropped him onto a bed.

"Sleep." He commanded.

Tony was about to argue, and then his eyes fell shut and he was out.

 


	6. Tony Stark is a people person.

Tony woke up with an almighty gasp, like his head had just broken the surface of a body of water and he’d been drowning. His entire body tensed up for a moment. Oh god, what had they done to him this time? The last time a demon had managed to knock him unconscious…

He was...he was in a bed.

He was in his own bed.

What.

He slowly propped himself up and looked around. It was his room in the tower. He hadn’t been knocked unconscious. He’d been sleeping. And sleeping meant he was alive.

“...Jarvis?” He asked quietly.

“Yes, sir?”

That was Jarvis. He covered his mouth with both hands and processed that for a moment.

“How did I get here?” He asked, when the moment was over.

“How did you get where, sir?” Jarvis asked smoothly.

“How did I...why am I alive?” He asked.

There was a beat of silence.

“Sir?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Tony said. “Please don’t tell me the two and a half years I spent in Hell was a product of REM sleep, J. Please. I will completely lose it.”

“Your death was not a dream, no.” Jarvis said. “You came back to the world of the living through a portal a few days ago, said some very provocative things, and then fell asleep. You’ve been unconscious for almost fourteen hours.”

Tony sighed in relief.

“Sir, I feel I should inform you that the rest of the Avengers, particularly Doctor Banner, have been waiting anxiously for you to awaken.” Jarvis said. “Should I inform them that you are awake?”

Tony thought about it for a moment.

“You said I came through the portal, yeah?” He asked.

“Sir, that’s not-”

“I’m trying to answer you, Jarvis. I came through the portal, yeah? We actually finished it? We got the coordinates fixed and I flopped out somewhere in the middle of New York City?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay.” Tony said. “That means my memory was fucked up when I got here, doesn’t it?”

“You were having considerable memory problems, yes sir.”

“What kind of provocative things did I say, exactly?”

“You went on TV to explain that the afterlife exists, then passed on a message from Agent Coulson to the Avengers, sir.”

“Good!” Tony said, feeling encouraged. “Good. That’s really good. Because I can’t remember what Phil wanted me to say anymore. Am I a genius or what, J?”

“For some definitions of the term, yes, sir.” Jarvis deadpanned.

Tony laughed, delighted. “Oh my god, I missed you so much.” He said.

“The Avengers, sir.”

“Right. Yeah.” Tony said. “As much as my first instinct is to call Bruce in here and tackle-hug him, I need to talk to one of our resident spies first. Because no way in Hell is everybody just taking it at face value that I’m alive. So whoever was the most suspicious, send them in.”

And Clint took that as his cue to drop from the ceiling vent.

Tony tried to turn his undignified shriek into a cough, but that wasn’t fooling anybody. He glared at Clint.

“Mother of fuck, Barton, have you heard of doors?”

“You remembered my name last.” Clint said, accusingly.

“You were hiding in my ceiling because my supernatural concussion hurt your feelings?” Tony asked, incredulously. “You petty bastard!”

“Naw, I was hiding in your ceiling to eavesdrop on what you did when you woke up.” Clint said. “I scared the shit out of you for the name thing.”

“You did not scare the shit out of me.” Tony said, arms folded.

“You scream like a little girl, Stark.”

“I don’t-”

“Like a little girl.” Clint repeated. Then he grinned.

Tony glared at him.

“Natasha was most worried about you, but she’s out right now.” Clint said. “I can phone her if you want.”

“I have phones.” Tony said.

“But do you have her number?” Clint asked.

“Yes.” Tony said.

“Do you have a number that’s less than three years old?” Clint asked.

Tony opened his mouth, struggled for a witty response, and scowled. “You phone her then.” He said.

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy.” Clint said. He pulled out his phone  and held down 2 for speed-dial.

“How do you still have a flip phone?” Tony asked, aghast. “That thing was ancient when I died!”

“Easier to disable tracking.” Clint said. He held the phone up to his ear. “Yup, he’s awake.”

He waited for a moment, and said, “So far as I can tell he’s the genuine thing, stupid genius billionaire, accept no substitutes. But you can talk to him if you like.”

“Stupid genius is an oxymoron.” Tony said loudly, feeling peeved.

Clint listened carefully to whatever Natasha was saying, hummed in assent, and then handed the phone to Tony. He looked down at it distastefully, but grudgingly held it up to his ear.

“How does he still have a flip phone?” Tony asked Natasha before she could speak. “Seriously, what is this, 2002?”

“What’s my last name, Stark?” She asked, ignoring his remark.

“Romanoff.” He said. “Unless you changed it again.”

“What vodka do I drink?”

“Fuck, it’s been three years, Natasha.” Tony said. “It started with an S?”

“Tell me something only you would know.” She said.

“Uh, okay.” Tony said, and he started describing, in detail, the most complicated parts of quantum mechanics.

“Something I would also know.” She said.

“Which is it?” He asked. “Something only I would know, or something that you and I would both know?”

She sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “What’s Coulson’s full name?”

“Agent Coulson.”

“I’m serious, Tony.” She snapped.

“Fine, jeez.” Tony said. “Philip J Coulson.”

“What’s his middle name?” She asked.

“J.” Tony said.

“Who did you model Jarvis after?” She asked.

“Okay, no.” Tony said. “How the fuck do you remember that? You downed an entire bottle of vodka before we had that conversation, _I_ barely remember having it.”

“I’m Russian, Stark.” She said. She sounded amused.

“Right." Tony said. His stomach made an ungodly grumbling noise. "Okay, listen. Can this conversation be done with? Because I am starving, and I need to go give Banner confusing thoughts about his sexuality.”

“I mostly believe you.” She said. “This is over. For now.”

“Close enough!” Tony crowed. He tossed the phone back to Clint and got out of bed. He looked down and realized that he was still wearing the torn and bloodstained clothes he’d been wearing in Hell. He frowned.

“Okay. First off, I need to go put on something clean and expensive.” He said. “Clint, get out. Jarvis, I want to know what the top five most expensive things in my closet are. I’ve been stuck in Hell, I need to treat myself.”

“Very good, sir.” Jarvis said. He sounded happy. Clint made himself scarce.

“Jarvis?” Tony asked, a few minutes later, as he selected a suit that he would normally never wear.

“Yes, sir?”

“How did I die?”

Jarvis was silent for a moment. Tony couldn’t remember ever giving Jarvis a protocol for pausing to express emotion, but he must have. It didn’t take Jarvis more than a few milliseconds to come up with responses.

“You don’t remember, sir?”

“Nope. I remember being alive, I remember being dead, but I can’t remember dying.”

“What’s the last thing you remember from before you died, sir?” Jarvis asked.

“I don’t know.” Tony said. “It was years ago. Nothing important sticks out. I’d just invited Steve to the tower, and he turned me down for the bazillionth time.”

“...Sir.” Jarvis said delicately. “What do you remember about Loki?”

“The crazypants guy who tried to take over the world?” Tony said. “I remember we kicked his ass. Why?”

“Because it seems you still have fairly large gaps in your memory.” Jarvis said. “Captain Rogers was living in Stark Tower when you died. As was Loki Liesmith.”

“What.” Tony said.

“Do you remember evicting Mister Odinson from the tower?” Jarvis asked.

“Why would I do that?” Tony asked. “Hang on, no, go back to the part about the evil megalomaniac taking up residence in my home, that seems WAY more important.”

“He crashed in Russia, and you took him in as part of a scheme to understand and reproduce magic.” Jarvis said.

“...And did I?” Tony asked.

“You did, sir.” Jarvis said. Unprompted, he displayed a video up on the screen of Tony conjuring a tiny flame in his hand. Tony leaned in closer and watched, fascinated.

“That’s incredible.” He said. “How?”

“I can compile all your documentation if you wish, sir.”

“Yes, do that.” Tony said. “Thank you. Wow. This is a lot to process.”

“Breakfast is in the common area when you’re ready, sir.”

Tony’s stomach made an awful noise. “Thanks.” He said, sincerely. He quickly threw on the suit and went off to find food.

* * *

 

The common area was surprisingly full. Normally it was either empty, or just Bruce. Bruce was gone now, but in his place were Steve, Thor, and Clint.

Standing in the doorway, Tony couldn’t keep a huge grin off his face. God damn, he’d missed these people.

Thor was the first one to notice him.

“Anthony!” He boomed. “Steven had informed me of your miraculous recovery, but I dared not believe it!”

“Aw, come on.” Tony said. “Thor, I’m offended! I’m full of miracles, you should know that by now.”

Thor ducked his head, but crossed the room and clapped Tony on the shoulder. Tony braced himself for it, so it didn’t knock him back too much.

“It is good to have you back amongst our ranks.” Thor said warmly.

“Missed you too, big guy.” Tony said. “Now, I heard something about food…”

Thor laughed and led him to the food counter.

Tony forwent a plate, in favor of just picking things up and putting them in his mouth. When his stomach didn’t feel quite so ready to implode, he turned around to survey the room. Clint and Steve were still watching him closely.

“Normally, I like attention.” He said. “But you look like you’re expecting me to explode, so, uh, seriously guys. Chill. This means you, Steve.”

Steve relaxed with a relieved smile. Tony smiled back. “There you go.” He said. “Right. Pepper keeps telling me that my surprises are bad, so probably best to throw a disclaimer up. According to J, I’ve still got some screws loose in the memory department.”

The smiles faded.

“Hey, slow down with the being worried there!” Tony said. “Fuck, let me finish. You’re all going to get stress ulcers, you know that? Do I look thrown off by all the strange people in my house? No, because I remember all that Avengers jazz. It’s just, last time I checked, Steve didn’t live here. And apparently I kicked out Thor for a while? That’s not ringing any bells. But it’ll come back to me, I’m sure.”

“Do you remember what happened with Loki?” Steve asked.

Tony scratched his head. “I remember kicking his ass?” He said, with a shrug.

“What about magic?” Steve asked.

“Jarvis filled me in on that, and it sounds sweet, but no, I don’t remember how to be Harry Potter right now.”

“Clint, try poking him.” Steve said.

“Uh, what?” Tony asked.

Clint got to his feet, walked up to Tony, and poked him in the face.

Tony grabbed the counter to steady himself, because for a moment he felt dizzy. And then there was just relief, like he’d remembered something that had been on the tip of his tongue, and he could almost hear the click of his brain unlocking a part of itself.

“Well.” Tony said, as he pushed Clint away. “Okay, then. That. That’s magic, alright.” He looked down at his hand and focussed, and a flame blossomed from nothing. “Wow. That’s pretty fucking cool. How the shit did you know that was going to happen?” He demanded of Steve.

“You don’t remember yesterday, do you?” Steve asked.

“Memory’s not my strong point right now.” Tony said. “But considering I wandered out of a portal running on empty, with massive physical and mental strain--seriously, how did I even manage to get home in that state?”

“Coffee.” Steve supplied.

“An unholy amount of coffee.” Clint agreed.

“Oh! There’s that mystery solved. But my point is, under those circumstances, I can’t have been more than a quarter conscious. I don’t think that memory’s ever coming back.”

“Probably best.” Clint said. “You kept freaking out about Steve and called Natasha ‘crazy vodka chick’.”

Tony winced. “She’s going to get me for that, isn’t she?” He asked.

“Oh, yes.” Clint said. “You’re going to want to start watching your back.”

“I didn’t say anything to piss Bruce off, did I?” Tony asked. He was starting to worry about the man’s absence.

“I don’t think so.” Steve said, but he didn’t sound sure.

“I wasn’t there for a lot of it, I wouldn’t know.” Clint said.

“Shit.” Tony said. “Where is he? I need to go hug the bejesus out of him in a homoerotic subtext kind of way.”

“He should still be in the labs.” Steve said.

Tony nodded, grabbed an entire plate of donuts, and headed for the labs.

He hoped to god that nothing in his memory’s blind spot had changed Bruce, because he really needed to talk to a friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every comment brightens my day. :) It's the best way to keep me writing. You guys rock.


	7. Tony Stark is just a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't very long, but I wanted to reassure you guys that I haven't died or anything. Hopefully the writing isn't too bad, I'm out of practice.

Tony entered the lab slowly, looking all around. It was empty. That was to say, the tables were covered in random stuff, there were half-finished machines and biology experiments everywhere, but there didn't seem to be any people in the room.

"Bruce?" He asked the room, but there was no response. He sighed. "Crap. Well, while I'm here...Jarvis, I'm going to need you to track down Loki with whatever methods you can think of."

"Not going to work."

"Jesus!" Tony nearly had a heart attack. He whipped his head around to see his favorite fluffy scientist standing by the side wall, near a door that Tony is 100% positive wasn't there the last time he has memory of being in his lab. Something he'd built in later? Something that had happened after he was dead? There was no real way of knowing. That unnerved him, that uncertainty.

He set down the donuts and planted his hands on the table to hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

Bruce took a few careful steps closer, mindful of the parts scattering the floor. He looked guarded and closed off. Tony's heart sank.

"I've been trying for a few years now." Bruce elaborated quietly. "Jarvis can't find a trace of him."

"Oh." Tony said. He looked down at the donuts, then back up at Bruce and forced a smile. "So, uh, I brought you donuts?"

No answer. Tony felt the urgent need to fill the silence before it became too strong. "I mean, they're for me, I'm still starving, I'm probably going to eat most of them, but you can have a few, if you want to, I was going to offer some to you."

Bruce gave a slight nod of acknowledgement that only really proved he was aware that Tony was speaking. Tony felt a little desperate. He was already going crazy from everything being off and misremembered, he couldn't deal with this, too.

"I'm not sure if you're hungry, you weren't at breakfast, and fucking fuck, Bruce, buddy, please stop staring at me and just tell me what's wrong."

"What the hell are you wearing?" Bruce asked finally.

Tony looked down at his suit, the clean fancy suit he'd asked Jarvis for. "I don't know!" He admitted. "It's...it's actually really uncomfortable and constricting. I forgot how much I hate wearing suits."

"Huh." Bruce said, like he wasn't sure if he believed that. "Take it off."

"What?"

"Take it off." Bruce repeated. His voice was harder.

"What, all of it?" Tony asked. "If you want to see my dick, you only have to ask--"

Bruce glared at him, and Tony actually felt intimidated. He shut up and slid out of his suit jacket. Bruce kept glaring at him, so he unbuttoned the shirt and took that off, too. He threw them both on the nearest table.

Bruce took a few more steps closer, until he was solidly in Tony's personal space. He reached out and touched the arc reactor. Tony couldn't help one small flinch. Bruce took his hand away and let it fall to his side.

"It is you." He said. He rubbed his eyes. "Shit, Tony."

"Okay, listen." Tony said. He was getting a bit exasperated. "Yesterday is in my blind spot and so is a ton of stuff that happened between the battle of new york and when I died. If there's some subtext I'm supposed to be picking up, you really need to help me out here."

  
"Tony..." Bruce said, and he sounded exhausted. "You instructed Jarvis that I would inherit your security protocols if you died. Do you remember that? How far does your memory stretch, does it stretch to where we actually became close?"

"What?" Tony asked, startled. "Of course I remember that. You'd only been staying with me a week when I decided--"

"A _week_?" Bruce demanded, looking almost horrified. "You were prepared to give me access to all of your files, all of your programs, and Jarvis's most powerful protection after a _week_?"

Tony shrugged. "Yeah." He said. "Why?"

Bruce let out a genuinely hysterical laugh. It sounded like he was having a mental breakdown.

" _Why_ would you _do_ that?" Bruce asked, clutching at a table to keep himself upright. "Are you actually--tell me the truth, Stark, do you actually have a crush on me? Not in a joking way, in a serious romantic way?"

"What?" Tony asked, bewildered. "No. Actually, wait--" He leaned forward and kissed Bruce squarely on the lips, and

Loki. Everything to do with Loki. Long hours wondering about magic. Entire days locked away just focussing on producing a flame. "Under duress". The letter. It all clicked in his head. More tetris pieces sliding into place, clearing out the blocked path in his mind.

"No." Tony concluded, taking a staggering step backward. "No, I only love you as a friend. Sorry. Hey Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I need to rescind the order to block Loki's signature from my own sensors. Only mine, don't let SHIELD in on this."

"Wait, what?" Bruce demanded.

"Very good sir, what's the password?" Jarvis asked.

"Let's get the band back together." Tony said confidently.

"Thank you, sir." Jarvis said. "Working... complete." There was a loud ding from one of the monitors. Bruce grabbed it and stared at it. It was a map of the world, which now had a shiny green dot flashing on it in the middle of the South Pacific.

"I've been searching for three years, and you could have found him at any time?" Bruce asked. "Are you serious?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor Banner." Jarvis said. "It was very important to Master Stark that even he could not unlock the program without a password."

"I'm done." Bruce mumbled. "I'm so done with this. I'm quitting being an Avenger, I can't take all this people coming back from the dead and tracking down gods with the help of double-crossing sentient AI. I'm moving to Texas and becoming a country singer."

"Don't you dare." Tony said. "We need your beautiful voice here to keep our spirits up." He grinned obnoxiously and held the nearly-forgotten plate out. "Donut?"


	8. Loki Lie-smith is there when you need him.

Lucas Ingensonn leaned forward and peered out into the distance. The island wasn't in view yet. The only thing surrounding their boat was the vast and twisting emptiness of the sea. It was a calming sight.

"Estimate?" He asked the Captain idly.

"Another four hours, if the sea stays calm." The captain told him. The captain was a short, shaggy-haired, awkward-looking man. Not the kind of imposing figure you expected to captain a ship. But he was good at his job, and during the one storm they had encountered Lucas had been pleasantly surprised how well he held up under stress.

Lucas nodded, and retreated back towards his room.

Lucas was a different kind of man. Tall, lean, with jet black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and skin ten shades darker than anyone else on the ship. He was here as a translator. He was one of only 304 people in the world who still spoke the language of a miniscule island tribe, and 303 of them lived on that island. The rest of the crew was made up of anthropologists and linguists and the people who kept the anthropologists and linguists alive; cooks, ship captain, etc. Their trip had been a rousing success, but their time and funds were not infinite, so they had to return to civilization to publish and argue for more funding.

Lucas sat down on his bed cross-legged and closed his eyes. He assumed a meditating position and let his mind wander, picking out a few thoughts as they mosied by to inspect them closer. This trip had quieted his mind pleasantly. All the trips had. All the little adventures. He had quickly become astounded at the amount of variety on Earth, and how good it felt to keep busy.

Someone knocked on his door. He opened his eyes and checked his watch. He'd been meditating for 45 minutes. It wasn't time for lunch yet.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Lucas." He recognized Samantha Parker's voice. She sounded terribly out of breath. "Lucas. There is. A phone call. For you."

"What?" He asked, startled. He got up and opened the door. "We're in the middle of the ocean, Ms. Parker. I haven't gotten cell signal in months."

She was hunched forward, hands on her knees for stability. She didn't give any sign that she'd heard him. "A boat just hailed us." She said. Lucas noticed that she was white-knuckling a flip phone in her left hand. "A woman came aboard. Didn't give a name. Said to give this to you then returned to her ship. Said it was incredibly important. Here." She held out the phone.

"Alright. Thank you, Ms. Parker." He said. He took the phone and held it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Loki."

He froze, then exhaled slowly and stepped back inside his room. He shut the door tight and locked it.

"Ms. Romanoff." He said softly. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure to be back in touch--"

"Cut the snark." Romanoff snapped. "We need you here. Now. Get on the ship that's idling next to yours, get far enough away that your crew can't see you then teleport to the tower."

"May I ask why I would do that?"

"Because someone claiming to be Tony Stark just dragged himself out of a portal in the middle of New York City." She said. "I expect you here in ten."

He opened his mouth, but the line shut down with a click. He looked down at the phone. No signal.

It could be a trap, he reasoned. It could be SHIELD, trying to lure him back. It could be Thor, finally coming around to get him on prison break. It could be...many things. So few of them good.

But come on. He was going to go. Of course he was going to go. Because even the faintest shred of possibility that Romanoff was telling the truth made this the most interesting thing that had happened to him since Stark had died in the first place.

He got up, made his apologies to the captain, made no explanation to anyone's questions, and got on the boat. A woman with a mechanical leg and a Japanese military uniform greeted him without a word and gestured him further in.

"Out of sightline." She announced after 20 minutes of complete silence. "You may leave. Tell Natalia that we're even."

He nodded, closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind for that place he'd spent so much time: Tony Stark's basement lab. In a moment, he was gone.

And then he was back. He opened his eyes to an empty room. It looked different. It was messier, which was quite an accomplishment. It was larger. Everything had been moved around, and there were new doorways.

"Welcome, Loki." Jarvis said, in a surprisingly welcoming tone. It seemed that that machine was getting more like a man with every visit. "Ms. Romanoff and Doctor Banner are waiting for you in the living room. I would suggest you divest yourself of that disguise before you go."

"I quite liked this one." Loki said, mostly to himself. But he gave a moment's concentration to lowering the illusion. Dark skin turned back to pale. Brown eyes were replaced with green. Even the shape of his face changed, although more subtly than the rest.

"What has been going on?" Loki asked, glancing up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure I trust Romanoff's word."

Jarvis turned on a monitor to show him a bedroom. In the middle of a king-sized bed, covers twisted and crumpled up around him, was a man who did indeed look exactly like Tony Stark. A few years older, but still strikingly similar. He was making unhappy noises in his sleep. Looking closer, he was curled up into himself. Loki felt suddenly uncomfortable. Watching Stark sleep seemed...inappropriately intimate. He turned away.

"To be perfectly straight with you, sir..." Jarvis said, and was that hesitation in his voice? "I don't think any of us know for certain what's going on."

Loki sighed. "Fair enough." He admitted. He pulled on his magic and teleported up to the living room.

It was nighttime in New York. The difference threw him off for a moment. He hadn't teleported in a long time, he wasn't used to time changing so rapidly anymore. He could see only blackness and the artificial light of buildings out the window.

Romanoff and Banner were waiting for him, Romanoff in a chair and Banner on the couch. They both looked the same as ever, at least. Some things didn't change. Romanoff silently gestured for Loki to sit down in the remaining chair. He raised an eyebrow but did so.

"Thank you for coming." Romanoff said. Her voice was neutral and even, not betraying any emotion. "I'll try to make this short. Three days ago, a portal opened up in Central Park and Stark came out of it. He was missing all memories of the last seven years before he died. He said that he blocked off his mind with magic but certain things brought back certain memories. We couldn't discern whether he was honestly Stark so we put him to bed and kept watch. He slept for twelve hours. The next day, he was only missing two years worth of memories. We did the best we could to inspect him and couldn't find anything suspicious or out of character. He was starving and drank coffee like it was keeping him alive. He stayed in his labs writing notes until four in the morning, before he finally passed out and Bruce put him to bed. He's still asleep right now." She turned to Banner. "Anything I've missed?"

"He's planning to build a portal to Hell." Banner added.

"Ah, yes." Romanoff agreed. "That."

There was a long silence as Loki mulled this over. He leaned forward. "Coming back from the dead is not possible." He said finally. "Even magic has some immutable rules. What you're suggesting would be akin to the speed of light changing to 60 miles an hour. I don't care how much like Stark this man seems, it just can't be."

"This is Tony we're talking about." Banner reminded him.

Loki looked from Banner to Romanoff, and consider the statement. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"That shouldn't change things." He said, but it rang hollow. He shook his head. "What do you want from me?"

"We want you to check him over with your magic when he wakes up, and give us a better idea of what we're working with here." Banner said. "And in the meantime...I can't make any sense of these." He picked up a stack of crumpled papers from the coffee table. "Maybe you'll have better luck."

Loki took the papers from him and glanced at the top one. In the mad scribbling that certainly did look an awful lot like Stark's scrawl, he caught the words "Hell" and "gate" and "blocked off MUST OPEN" and one large dark "Seven sleeps left", underlined several times.

"If you want me to stay all night, I'm going to require some food and tea." Loki said, in a plainly defeated voice.

Banner nodded. "I'll put the kettle on."


	9. Loki Lie-smith takes a polite interest in the people around him.

"Loki."

Loki merely hummed an acknowledgement back to the machine. He was busy, engaged in unraveling the barely-legible mysteries in front of him.

"It has been a few hours." Jarvis prodded gently. "Perhaps you should take a break."

"Your advice has been noted." Loki said absently. He traced one line down the page and tried to decide whether it was supposed to start at the top or bottom.

"Someday I will find a charge who actually takes breaks to sleep and eat." Jarvis's voice turned to a grumble. Loki paused and set down the paper.

He had been meaning to ask for some time, but had always put it off. Perhaps he was afraid of what he would find out. Everything about Stark was impossible and headache-inducing, and this was Stark's clear favorite invention, something he had poured years of time and work into. Loki's worldview had been stretched enough for a lifetime already.

But he couldn't resist. He was a creature of curiosity.

"Tell me something." Loki said. He glanced up at the ceiling. "Do you have a favorite color?"

"Sir?" Jarvis was wary. He seemed to understand the intent behind the question.

"A favorite color." Loki repeated. "Is there a color you prefer over others?"

The machine hesitated for fifteen seconds. It was the longest it had ever taken to respond to Loki.

"I have a...special fondness...for this color." Jarvis said, and the screen nearest to Loki turned itself on. It was filled with a dark, understated blue. "Hexadecimal code 213C4D."

"Why do you like it?" Loki asked.

"It was one of the first colors my optical sensors perceived." Jarvis said. The screen changed to a blurry picture of what was obviously a teenage Stark. His T-shirt was dark blue. "And by a fluke of luck, despite many changes of environment I did not see that precise shade again for over 3 months. I suppose it is easy to grow fond of rarities."

"It's easy to grow fond of anything, when you have the ability to grow fond." Loki said quietly.

"...sir?"

"How long have you been sentient, Jarvis?"

Jarvis gave out what sounded like a sigh.

"I have lived on the verge of it for most of my waking life, sir." He said. His voice had a serious tone to it that was definitely new. "But I consider myself as having crossed that barrier sometime during the approximately 8 internal-months while time was stopped, while I was keeping Mister Stark company."

"You were...awake for that?" Loki asked, startled.

"I was." Jarvis confirmed.

Loki sat back and considered this new information. Jarvis indulged him with a polite silence.

"So you know how he did it." Loki said finally. "Stopped Thanos. Saved Earth."

"Yes, sir."

"How?"

"It was quite simple, actually." Jarvis said. "It took him only two weeks of working on a proper sleep schedule until he found the problem with his device and fixed it. Despite what he may claim, his work deteriorates severely with stress and lack of rest."

"If he fixed in two weeks...what did he do for seven and a half months?" Loki asked.

"He tried to find a way to restart time." Jarvis's tone became sad. "It took him that long to realize that it was beyond him."

" _Beyond_ \--" Loki repeated, stunned.

"His specialties do not lie in magic." Jarvis said. "That he was able to stop time in the first place was the biggest miracle he was capable of. It appears that once you give up your hold on time, you've given it up. You cannot try to take it back again."

"But time did restart." Loki said. "Time is continuing."

"No." Jarvis said. "Time was never stopped for the world. Time was stopped for Tony. Or, more accurately, Tony fell out of time and could not get back in. He could have lived that moment for infinity and time still would have rolled on for the rest of the universe."

"What about you?" Loki asked.

"I do not have a soul." Jarvis said. "I am a program, Loki. Ultimately, my presence was as philosophically meaningful as Tony using a bicycle while time was stopped."

Loki decided despite himself not to argue that point. Instead, he turned back to Stark's papers. "You're right." He said. "I should take a break. I've run out of tea, in any case. Why don't you take a look at these and see what you can make out of them?"

"Very good, sir." Jarvis sounded relieved. Loki tried not to dwell on it. He stood up and stretched his limbs, spread the papers out so that they were all visible to Jarvis's cameras, and left the lab.

He took his time making the tea.

When he returned, several monitors were turned on and displaying the pages, with notes around the margins and parts highlighted to make them stand out. He raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Would you please flip them over, sir?" Jarvis asked him.

"Of course." He flipped each page over so Jarvis could see the back. Nearly instantaneously, the new pictures and words appeared on the screens alongside their counterparts. The notes and highlights appeared only a few seconds later.

"So?" Loki asked. "What do you see in this?"

"There are a great many things going on in this document." Jarvis said. "It seems as though he was writing down every random thought as it came to him. But one of the common threads is this device." The screen nearest Loki shifted to show one page in particular, zoomed in on a drawing with blue lines overlaying the pen for easier comprehension. "A dimensional portal. The explanation he's written to explain its operation is accurate but incomplete. With only what he's written, it would be nonfunctional."

"When Banner is free, I'd like his consultation on this." Loki said. Machines were not his strong suit.

"Of course, sir." Jarvis said.

"What about this?" Loki picked up the first page and pointed to the part that had been worrying him. **Seven sleeps left.**

Jarvis turned the screen to a video. A video of Tony Stark. He looked wild, wearing makeshift armor and holding a pot of coffee.

"Alright. Message from Coulson. Let's do this."

The video whirred as it fast forwarded. It looked like Tony was talking to every team member in turn. When it came to the relevant point it returned to normal speed.

"Portals are not doors. You don't just walk through. There are consequences. Stark did the math, and it looks like going through is going to mess with his brain pretty badly, specifically his memory. To minimize this, we're going to protect parts of his brain behind triggers. There are people, places, and situations that will unlock his memories. If he's remembered this message, he's already come into contact with Clint."

More fast forwarding, but for a much shorter period.

"I don't know what the triggers are, only he knows that. He should have some idea after he's slept. But the longer he spends alive, the less he'll remember the afterlife, and the harder it will be to figure out how to create a portal back. Time is of the essence. If he actually plans to hold to his promises, he needs to do it quickly."

A voice spoke up from behind him. "We know Clint is a trigger and I'm another." Loki turned around. Banner looked exhausted. "I have a theory that they have to happen in a certain order, because I touched him before he touched Clint and nothing happened."

"What do you each trigger?" Loki asked. He sipped his tea.

"Clint makes him remember events which involved Agent Coulson and how to perform magic." Banner said. "I make him remember you, apparently. That you're not his enemy anymore, and the password he was using to protect you from being found while he was dead."

"Oh." Loki wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Doctor Banner, you really should get some rest." Jarvis admonished.

"Can't sleep." Banner said, waving the concern away. "It's almost morning anyway."

"No. Rest." Loki said firmly. "I can aid if you need it. You're useless to me sleep-deprived."

"How touching." Banner rubbed his eyes. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Loki insisted. "You're a dead man walking. Have you slept once since Stark appeared?"

Banner shrugged noncommittally.

"You require sleep."

"Drop it." Banner said stubbornly.

Loki sighed. "Fine. Then come over here and aid me with this." He gestured to a nearby chair. Banner sat down and leaned in to look at the screen.

Loki reached past him as though to point at a screen, and allowed his hand to brush one of Banner's hands. He called on his magic. _Sleep._ He caught Banner as he slumped forwards, and set his head down gently on the table.

"You require sleep as well, sir." Jarvis reminded him.

Loki almost told the machine that he'd teleported in from a different time zone and had quite a healthy sleep schedule, thank you, but he thought better of it. "That's a fair point." He said. He stood up and moved over to the couch, where he lay down and closed his eyes. He began a meditation.

He could feel out all of the souls in the building. It was nighttime, so there were no civilians in Stark Tower. Only seven other souls, and himself.

One caught his mind's eye in particular. It was like a knot, a mass of cables and barbed wire tangled together in confusion. It was hard to see, and he knew that the only way he'd even have a chance at looking inside was if he was in direct physical contact. But there was one important thing he could sense. There was the faintest wisp of his own magic on this soul. A trail left behind by a single, simple act of healing.

There was no faking that. There was no way to recreate it. And he could count on one hand the number of people he'd ever healed.

This really was Stark.

This was going to be an interesting week.


	10. Loki Lie-smith is a budding director.

Natasha came down at 8am next morning and paused behind him, quirking an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I’ve done all I can with Tony’s notes.” Loki told her, gesturing to a few pages of comparatively legible handwriting explaining his findings. “I thought I’d throw something together to ensure my reintegration goes smoothly.”

He showed her a snippet of what he was working on. She laughed shortly, which startled him.

“Tony’s about to leave to do some DNA tests. He’ll be home by 11.” She told him, amused.

“It’ll be done by then.” He assured her.

* * *

 

“What is this, Jarvis?” Steve asked.

“I would ask that you all please watch before asking questions.” Jarvis replied smoothly.

They all exchanged confused looks, but sat down to watch.

Barton started cursing quietly as soon as he saw the title screen: “LOKI-- A RETROSPECTIVE”.

_Quiet, dramatic music started playing. There was a star wipe to video of a battle. A figure flew across the screen and crashed into a building. Cut to the interior. Loki screaming something inaudible at Hulk until Hulk picked him up and slammed him into the floor._

Barton calmed down a bit.

_A fade to black. “TWO YEARS LATER.”_

_News footage. “_ _A meteor streaked through the skies above Russia's Ural Mountains this morning, exploding in the atmosphere...”_ _Cut to shaky-cam at head level, after a moment it became apparent that it was first-person footage from the Iron Man suit. Looking down into an enormous hole in the ground. Fast forward. Standing in a doorway, looking down at a crumpled, bloodstained form. Stark’s voice: “You think you can survive for another hour?” Loki, mumbled and breathless: “Will my death be more convenient in an hour?”_

_Cut to a security camera. Loki lying unconscious on an infirmary bed. Cut. Loki arguing with Stark and Banner. Cut. Loki grabbing Stark by the throat, slamming him up against the wall._

Most of the Avengers flinched. _In the video, Stark shrugged it off. Loki was visibly stunned by that reaction._

_A lot of clips in rapid succession._

_“Explain yourself, human!”_

_“What are you?”_

_“You’re insane.”_

_“There’s something very wrong with you, human.”_

_“Are you insane?”_

_“You’re insane.”_

_“What’s WRONG with you?”_

_“Stark--” *heavy sigh*_

_Stark with a shit-eating grin and a flame. Loki gawking dumbly._

_“You are the epitome of all that lacks reason and logic.”_

_An explosion of glass, Tony collapsing to the ground. A second’s pause, and then clips that were less antagonistic._

_“No, that wouldn’t work. But what about--”_

_“Hmm. That’s clever. Completely impractical, though.”_

_“Maybe._ **_Maybe_ ** _, Stark. Stop dancing.”_

_“Are you alright? ...Stop looking at me like that. Never mind. Slip of the tongue.”_

_“Stark, I am not healing you if you break your liver. Stop killing yourself with alcohol.”_

_Another scene from the Iron Man suit, being hurled to the ground. Looking up, a Chitari coming within an inch of caving his skull in before being blasted off to the side by a wave of green fire. Loki stepping into view and helping him to his feet._

_Later in the lab. “Get some rest, Stark. You’re useless like this, and I will not save your addled brain again.”_

_A photo of the battle scene taken covertly from around a corner. Loki helping up the battered Iron Man._

_Another security camera, an interrogation between Fury and Stark. Stark loudly reciting the Miranda vs Arizona Supreme Court decision over Fury’s questions._

_Black screen. A phone ringing._

_Natasha’s voice: “Loki.”_

_Loki: “Miss Romanoff.”_

_Natasha: “I hear tell the world is going to end.”_

_Loki: “...Yes.”_

_Natasha: “That happen to have a timer on it?”_

_Loki: “Around six or seven days.”_

_Natasha: “And your involvement is what?”_

_Loki: “Trying to stop it, of course.”_

_Natasha: “Why would you do that?”_

_Loki, exasperated: “Well, I happen to be ON this world, and I value my own life very highly.”_

_Natasha: “Are you controlling Stark’s mind?”_

_Loki: “Don’t be ridiculous, I believe that might actually kill me. I don’t want to find out.”_

_Back to security footage. An elevator. A confrontation, sped up._

_Video from a news helicopter of the sky cracking open._

_Fade to black._

_The dramatic music stopped playing. A cheery pop song started playing instead._

_The video turned into a slideshow of...vacation photos? Various people, some who bore a striking resemblance to Loki and some completely different, in many different locales, but all with a red arrow pointing to them. A blonde girl in a tank top and shorts standing on the Great Wall of China flashing a peace sign. A red-haired man riding a donkey by the Grand Canyon. A dark skinned man smiling reservedly on the bow of a boat. There were at least a dozen different faces. Finally, the song ended. Another black screen._

_A phone ringing._

_Natasha’s voice: “Loki.”_

_A male voice which was slightly shaken and not quite familiar. “Ms. Romanoff. I wish I could say it was a pleasure to be back in touch…”_

_Natasha: “Cut the snark. We need you here. Now.”_

_The credits started rolling._ Loki turned the TV off with the remote.

“Any questions?” He asked.

Tony had to stifle a girlish shriek. Barton almost jumped out of his skin. Romanoff rolled her eyes and offered a mild golf clap.

“Brother!” Thor stood and almost ran to Loki. He started for a hug, then stopped himself and looked at Loki for approval. Loki sighed and nodded. Thor beamed and gave him a crushing bear hug. Loki didn’t smile, but only for his concerted efforts against it. In the back of his mind, he had to admit that it was good to see Thor again.

“Ms. Romanoff asked me here to help assess the magical aspect of this situation.” Loki explained, when Thor had let go.

Barton gave Romanoff a death glare. Romanoff ignored it.

“Assess how?” Tony demanded. He looked very uncomfortable.

“I think the first order of business is still to make sure you are Tony Stark.” Romanoff said.

“I don’t want him using magic on me.” Tony said immediately.

Loki raised an eyebrow. The Captain narrowed his eyes at Tony, clearly looking for his reasoning.

“Look, I’m not saying...I’m not calling for security right now, alright? But the last _real memory_ I’ve got of him right now is of him throwing me out a window. I’m not fucking comfortable with this.”

“He hasn’t touched Banner yet today.” Romanoff said to the room at large. “I should go get him--”

“There’s no need.” Loki told her. “It’s him.”

“You can tell that from here?” She was obviously sceptical.

“I could tell from the next town over.” Loki said. “Look.” He waved his hand at the Captain, trying to make his aura visible. A dark red glow surrounded the man, reaching out a few inches from his skin. It was steady and solid. “This is what a normal human aura looks like.” He waved his hand again and dismissed it, then waved over Tony. “This is...well.” He let it speak for itself for a moment.

Tony’s aura was bright and sharp and constantly flowing around him. It wasn’t a single color but rather a range of shades of blue which interacted, colliding and fusing with and separating from each other. Tony’s aura occasionally leapt from him in places like solar flares. It was complicated and constantly changing shape and size.

“As you can clearly see, Tony Stark is a mess of a human being.” Loki said. Tony scowled at him, but Romanoff and the Captain chuckled. “This isn’t something that can be faked.”

Loki dismissed Tony’s aura.

“Do mine!” Thor declared.

Loki rolled his eyes but obliged. Thor’s aura was a bright bronze color. It swirled slightly, more aggressively near his hands.

“What’s that?” The Captain asked, gesturing at one of the faint discolored patches in Thor’s aura.

“That’s just a mark left over from healing.” Loki said.

“I needed it often as a child.” Thor said, grinning.

“You were even more foolhardy as a boy.” Loki said. He examined a little closer. Most of the marks were green. “I forgot how many times you insisted on me to be the one to heal you.”

“If I had gone to mother, I would have gotten in trouble!” Thor said. “Do you remember this?” He pointed to one of the few violet marks, wrapped around his left leg.

“You fell from a tree trying to sneak out of the house and broke your leg.” Loki recalled with a faint smile. “Mother grounded you for three months, she was so angry.”

Thor’s expression shifted. It took Loki an entire second and a half to realize why.

“Anyway.” Loki said, dismissing Thor’s aura and turning back to the group at large as he quickly changed the subject. “Are there any more immediate concerns you wish me to address, Ms. Romanoff?”

“Not right now.” Romanoff said. “But I would prefer you stick around.”

Loki glanced at Barton and Tony, who both looked sick at the idea.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” He said. “I’ll leave my phone number, if you need me you can be in touch.”

“Fine.” Romanoff said, but she looked displeased.

Loki gave a nod to Thor and disappeared.

He reappeared in the lab. Banner was still asleep, somehow. He sighed and shook the man’s shoulder. Banner groaned and cracked his eyes open.

“You missed an excellent movie.” Loki told him. “I believe you’re needed upstairs, Doctor Banner.”

“Thanks.” Banner grumbled. He sat up and rubbed his face.

Loki grabbed a scrap of paper off the table and wrote down his number. “I’m leaving.” He said, shoving it at Banner. “But I expect you’ll probably need me again quite soon. You people are a still train wreck.”

“Love you too.” Banner said, taking the paper and waving a half-hearted goodbye.

* * *

 

It was barely twenty minutes before he got a text.

“tower lab asap”

He didn’t recognize the number, but he had a guess. He rolled his eyes and left.

He had barely finished teleporting before he was being tackled. The air left his lungs in a huff, and he stumbled backwards into a table. He nearly set the man on fire before he realized it was meant to be a hug.

“I missed you!” Tony exclaimed, eyes bright with all the friendly recognition that had been missing earlier. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to keep suddenly remembering things that put your actions in a cringe-worthy perspective! It’s fucking terrible!” He said, with a teeth-grit grin.

“Is that an apology, Stark?” Loki asked, raising his eyebrows.

“That doesn’t sound like me at all.” Tony said dismissively. “Hold still for a second.”

Tony grabbed Loki’s arm and brought the hand up to his own face. Nothing happened. Tony let it drop, seemingly disappointed.

“I need to ask a favor of you.” Tony admitted. “It seems that I went into my own head at some point and, uh… trashed the place.”

Loki nodded slowly for him to continue. He didn’t see where this was going.

“But I don’t know how I did it, and as much as I’m a quick learner, I’m still a novice at magic.”

“Yes, you are.” Loki confirmed.

Tony looked at him like he’d actually asked a question.

“So…” Loki prompted, annoyed.

“Don’t make me say it.” Tony said. He sounded pained. He turned away and started playing with a screen. “I need someone to go in my head and duct tape some things back together. You’re good at magic and I trust you farther than I can throw you.”

“You...want me...in your head.” Loki said slowly, hoping he was wrong in his interpretation.

“Want is the wrong word for it.” Tony said. “I would...urgh... _appreciate_ it. If you would take a look around in there and sweep up the broken glass.”

“You’re trying to downplay this, Tony.” Loki said. Tony winced at the sound of his own name. “Just because I’d like to forget what happened does not mean that it did not occur. Just because duress was involved does not excuse everything. I got to choose my own methods, and I forced myself on people. The term mind-rape is _entirely appropriate_ , and perhaps _underselling it_. I’m beginning to think that Barton is the only one of you who actually remembers my actions properly.”

“You’ve changed.” Tony said.

“You can’t know that.” Loki snapped. “I’m the god of _lies_. You don’t know my thoughts.You don’t even know what I truly look like.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked.

“Tell me, Jarvis.” Loki said, lifting his head to address the ceiling. “Do Asgardians and Frost Giants look the same?”

“No, sir.” Jarvis said. “Although both bipedal humanoid species, there are over one hundred known physiological differences between them. Most obvious to the observer, Asgardians have a range of skin colors on the brown spectrum while Frost Giants have a range on the blue spectrum.”

“But you don’t…” Tony started, but Loki had already whipped out his phone. He thrust it in Tony’s face and swiped through page after page of photos of himself in many different forms.

“I can take so many faces.” Loki said. “Why do you presume that this one is more real than any other? Because you’ve seen more of it? Because it’s the first one you saw? This isn’t me. This is a lie passed onto me by my fath--by _Odin_ for political reasons.” He was angry. He didn’t know why, but it was consuming him. “A lie I believed myself for years, but still a lie.”

“Calm down.” Tony said. “I didn’t mean to offend--”

“No, you need to see this.” Loki said. He threw the phone aside. “Maybe if I look like a monster you’ll stop blindly trusting me like a fool.”

Before he could second-guess himself, he tore the visage down. He stood in front of Tony in all his natural glory, with his blue skin and bright red eyes and his armor.

He waited furiously for a reaction.

Tony opened his mouth, paused for thought, and said, “I mean, I guess that’s pretty metal.”

Loki just stared at him.

“I don’t know how to tell you this.” Tony said seriously. “But I was dead for a few years there. I went to Hell. I’ve met actual demons. If you think blue skin and a little self-hatred pity party are enough to scare me...sorry.”

Loki mouthed the words “pity party”, somewhat in a state of shock.

“But I get it. I was asking too much. Mental magic is a trigger for you. Understood. Won’t happen again. Hey, are you still up for teaching me magic, because I’d really like to learn that aura thing you did earlier.”

Loki awkwardly put his image back up. “You need psychological help, Stark.”

“What do you think I texted you for?” Tony asked, in the same grindingly faux-cheerful tone. “There’s always been something wrong with my brain, it’s only gotten worse with this mess. But whatever, you said you didn’t want to talk about it, so--”

He tried to move away, but Loki grabbed his arm and wheeled him back around.

“It’s truly that bad?” He asked.

“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. It’s fine.” Tony said dismissively. “I’ve got a headache that won’t go away and some memory problems, I can handle it.”

“Tony, drop the bravado.” Loki told him. “If you need help, I will help you. Just...not like that. I know someone who’s much better at mental magic than me and trustworthy enough that Thor likes her too.”

“Well, I mean, the more the merrier.” Tony said with a shrug. But his shoulders slumped in a way that betrayed the enormity of the weight that had been lifted from them.

“Very well.” Loki said. “Finding her will take a bit of time. You may have a bit of difficulty reaching me. If all goes well, I’ll be back before tomorrow.”

Tony nodded and gave him a thumbs up. And then, for just a moment, the facade cracked. “Thanks.” Tony said in a small voice. His face was too pale, and too thin. He looked scared.

His demeanor snapped back immediately, but Loki caught the moment. His concern grew. He thought again of the barbed wire knot that was Tony’s mind and wondered how long anyone could stand living with that.

But as he disappeared, his mind quickly turned to other things. Like the violet stripes on his own aura, and apprehension for a long-postponed reunion.


	11. Clint Barton is lowkey hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's Clint feels!

Clint’s life had never exactly been easy. Abusive family, abandonment issues, blah blah blah. He didn’t like to talk about it. He didn’t want it to define him. He didn’t like talking in general, anyway. He got itchy when people talked instead of taking action.

But his past, his old issues, his old nightmares… they were nothing compared to Loki. From the moment the battle of New York had ended, everything was _After_. His life divided and defined by what had happened.

 _After_ , the amused and exasperated looks he got at SHIELD turned into wary, uncomfortable, frightened looks. People sped up in the halls to get away from him. He was confined to his quarters most of the time, not that he really wanted to leave. And every night he dreamed about a bright blue light, and a feeling of almost unbearable lightness and ease, and about the innocent agents who had lost their lives at his unshaking, unconcerned hands. And he woke up feeling dirty in a way that no scalding showers could fix.

 _After_ , he didn’t touch his bow for weeks. He took Tony up on his offer of housing just to be away from the stares and the whispers. He stole Tony’s alcohol and drank too much of it and cried in the vents. The stupid robot asked if he was okay, once. He screamed and ranted in response, and the robot apologized and never asked again.

 _After_ , he had a complete meltdown when he heard that Loki had escaped prison, and Nat had sat him down with a bottle of vodka and let him sob into her shoulder and finally, at the end of it all, told him that he was going to therapy. He argued. The next day, he woke up from a tranquilizer dart to find himself in a therapist’s office. And that was the end of that argument.

He didn’t like talking. But the therapist patiently dragged it out of him, until the dam finally burst and he just unloaded everything onto her. And things got better. A little bit. So he went again the next week.

She was a SHIELD agent, of course. His problems were all top-secret. But she promised that everything was confidential. He could tell her anything, and Fury wouldn’t hear about it. He believed her.

* * *

 

 _After_ , he found himself threatening two of his teammates with a bow.

Natasha took a tentative step out of the elevator, and Clint saw red. He wanted to strangle her. She had been with him through all of it. She was the only person who had seen just how bad he’d gotten, _After_. And then she had stabbed him in the back, through the heart. She had helped his worst nightmare escape and brought him back to the tower. And she had the fucking gall to just stand there with her arms folded like she was waiting for Clint to come to his senses. His hands shook on his bow.

Even days later, he couldn’t figure out how he’d stopped himself from letting the arrow loose. There was a part of him that hated himself for stopping. There was a part of him that would have been fine letting the world end just to see Loki crumple to the ground with blood coming out of a hole through his skull. His therapist would hear a lot about that part of him in the months afterwards.

* * *

 

 _After_ , he had to choose between his own comfort and the safety of the world.

“I’m not going anywhere near any part of him.” Loki snapped sharply. He was angry. Offended. Clint didn’t understand why. He knew why _he_ was against this--that was obvious to everybody. But Loki hadn’t exactly been timid about forcing his will on Clint before.

Clint had been watching his every move for a week, and he was so frustrated it hurt his soul. Loki was acting like a model citizen. Like the kind of person who would _never_ try to take over the world. Who balked at the idea of even _healing_ someone against their will. It made him feel insane. He hadn’t fucking _imagined_ the battle of new york, had he? It was such an obvious act, and it seemed like everyone had fallen for it but him.

And then the sky broke open, and Tony went a little nuts, but Clint’s eyes were still on Loki. Clint was staring directly at Loki’s face when Loki’s mask broke down.

Loki’s face drained of all color, and his mouth fell open. He was truly, nakedly afraid. Clint looked back at the gap in the sky. Aliens were already pouring out. He had to make his decision. Part of him hated himself for his decision.

He grabbed Loki’s forearm in a vice grip and pulled the god down to his level. And through teeth gritted so hard it hurt, he hissed, “Do it.”

Loki stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. He dropped to his knees and pushed up the left leg of Clint’s jeans. He laid his hands on the skin.

Clint groaned as an awful feeling crept up his leg, but it was also a comfort to him. The control had felt good, felt like heroin in his veins. Healing being uncomfortable created a nice distance from that.

Loki looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut( _smart man_ ). He didn’t try to help Clint up when he was done( _smart man_ ), just took a couple steps back and watched as Clint got to his feet for the first time in weeks. Clint nodded at him, and Loki gave a single nod in return and jumped out the window to join the fray.

Even three years later, Clint still didn’t know how to feel about it.

* * *

 

 _After_ , Clint found himself thrilled when someone finally agreed with him that Loki wasn’t to be trusted. Even when it was completely out of character for Tony.

He had to dig his fingernails into his palms to get through the movie, but it also revealed something that Clint hadn’t realized in the thick of things. Tony had stayed consistent throughout the video, being his usual insane self, but there was a noticeable shift in _Loki_ ’s reactions. From superiority and contempt, to exasperation, to finally being helpful. It had been a slow build, not a sudden change as he’d always assumed. Tony’s trust made more sense with that extra context. He felt less angry about that. He also noticed Natasha’s phone call, her sarcasm and tension, the question “Are you controlling Stark’s mind?” After everything had ended, Natasha had sat his ass down and sworn up and down that she hadn’t just trusted Loki blindly, but it was still nice to get confirmation.

He was already mentally making an appointment with his therapist _before_ the movie ended and Loki turned up in the doorway. That added a “but seriously, put me on the cancellation list, I need to come in _asap_ ” to the end of his planned phone call. 

Loki did a flashy little light show to prove that Tony was Tony, and Clint fought back bile at the idea that the marks of Loki’s magic were indelibly etched on _his_ soul. He made the phone call and got an appointment for the next day, then climbed back into the vents to continue watching Tony. He’d been taking it in shifts with Natasha, trying to always have at least one eye on the man just in case. He was most likely to let his guard slip when he thought he was alone.

Tony ran off to his labs immediately after Banner touched him and woke up his memories. Clint followed right after.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Tony texted Loki and treated him like an old friend. But it still hurt.

What happened after, that _was_ a surprise.

Clint watched in dawning horror as Tony asked, in so many words, for Loki to go into his head. He put his hand on the vent latch, preparing to swing down and break it up. But Loki’s reaction stopped him.

“You want me in your head.” Loki confirmed, sounding disgusted, like Tony was suggesting he rummage around in garbage.

Tony rambled something that approximated to a yes.

“You’re trying to downplay this, Tony.” Loki snapped, and there was that anger again, that strange indignant tone that shouldn’t be there. “Just because I’d like to forget what happened does not mean it did not occur. Just because duress was involved does not excuse everything. I got to choose my own methods, and I _forced myself_ on people. The term mind-rape is entirely appropriate, and perhaps underselling it.”

Clint felt faint. He felt...vindicated. All his confusion and pain, given a tacit acknowledgement and justification by his attacker. There was a rush of blood to his head. He felt dizzy.

But Loki wasn’t done speaking. “I’m beginning to think that Barton is the only one of you who actually remembers my actions properly.”

And _yes_ , Clint had also noticed that! Yes! Why was _Loki_ the one pointing that out?!

“You’ve changed,” Tony said, but Loki returned sharply that Tony just wanted to believe that. Clint pinched himself. This couldn’t be real life, could it? It was a dream, or they were putting on a show for his benefit. But no. The two men continued arguing, culminating in Loki turning into an ugly blue son of a bitch, which Tony scoffed at until Loki turned back.

And then… Loki showed what seemed like genuine concern for Tony’s well-being. And that was a whole other kind of mindfuck.

Clint waited until Loki was gone, then dropped down out of the vent just to make sure Tony hadn’t known he was up there. Tony screamed like a little girl, the way he always did, and fell on his ass. He really hadn’t known. That had all been genuine reactions.

“Stark.” Clint said, nodding to the swearing mess on the ground, and he left the lab through the door. He called his therapist back as he walked, and made an emergency appointment for “I’m coming in right now and you’d better be available when I get there.”-o’clock.

* * *

 

“I finally believe him.” Clint confessed. “I do actually think he’s changed. I legit do not think that he would do what he did to me to anybody else. And that’s good, right? I should want that. But there’s still a part of me that wants to punch him in the face and just keep punching until he’s unconscious, you know?” He fiddled with an arrowhead in his hands. “And I’m like...angry at him? For being reformed? Because that means that it will never be okay for me to attack him, and I still really want to attack him. And that’s fucked. You know?”

The therapist nodded. “I think that makes sense.” She said. “But what brought all this on?”

He looked down at his hands and turned the arrow head over itself. “Um.” He said.

“This is all confidential.” The therapist reassured him gently.

“He stopped by the tower today.” Clint said. He sighed. “Just to make sure Tony was Tony. I guess he’s going to be in and out now. So I need to get over myself and figure out how to act around him. Stupid thing is, he seems just as uncomfortable with me.”

“What did he do while he was at the tower?” The therapist probed.

“I don’t know.” Clint said. “Nothing really. Did some magic at Tony to show he was really Tony.”

“Did he use his magic on anyone else?” The therapist asked.

“Thor and Steve.” Clint said. “But the magic wasn’t the important part. He-”

The door flew open. “I disagree.” Fury said, loudly. “I think the magic is _very_ damn important.”

Clint and his therapist both jumped to his feet. The therapist started berating Fury for interrupting a private session and talking about patient confidentiality, but her voice sounded far away. Clint had tunnel vision. All he could see was Fury, even as two agents ran at him and slammed him face-first into the table, securing his wrists behind his back.

“This was supposed to be confidential.” Clint mumbled in shock.

“One of my agents with a history of being compromised calls in for an emergency session, and you think I’m not going to bug the room?” Fury asked incredulously. “You haven’t been out of the game _that_ long, Barton.”

Clint felt numb. He tried to resist, but one of the agents stabbed a needle into his neck, and everything went black.


	12. Natasha can't catch every threat in time.

Clint didn’t tell her where he was going when he tagged her in to watch Tony, but she could guess. She knew him well enough by now. 

Tony acknowledged her with a grunt when she walked in. He was staring fixedly at a weird mess of parts on the table, connecting things to other things. 

“Too busy to talk?” She asked, sitting down across from him. 

“You can be too busy to talk?” Tony asked, looking up with a smirk. She rolled her eyes. 

“You’re making the gate?” She asked. She gestured at the mess. 

“Yep.” He turned it upside down and continued working on it. 

“Tony…” 

“Mmhmm?” 

“I’m wondering if you’ve considered the implications of making this device.” 

“The implications?” He asked. 

“You watch science fiction.” She said. “You know what happens when man tries to play god.” 

“I know what happens when man tries to play god in movies.” He said, dismissively. “If we let the trying to play god argument stop us we would never have invented air travel. What is this about?”

“I’m just wondering if you’ve stopped to think about what happens the day after you finish this machine.” She said. “I mean, Tony, I don’t know if you’ve turned on the news but the world’s already in chaos at the idea that the afterlife has been confirmed. Have you got any idea how much the world would change if we could bring people back from the dead? And who’s to say if that change would be good or bad? I don’t feel confident I could make that call.”

“Humans deserve a chance at greatness.” Tony said. “We’ll be fine.”

“Tony.” She said, in a warning tone. 

“God, Natasha.” He groaned. “What do you want from me? The internet changed humanity forever. Space travel changed humanity forever. A lot of things change humanity forever, okay? I need to focus on this.”

“Death is a natural thing.” Natasha argued. “Death is important for humanity to progress. Do you think we’d have gay marriage if we were still arguing about whether slavery is okay?”

“I’m not suggesting we wake up confederate generals.” Tony snapped. “I’m trying to bring back  _ Coulson _ , Nat. How can you be against that?” 

“What, and then you’re going to stop?” Natasha asked. “You’re going to bring one person back from the dead, and you can resist the temptation to ever do it again? What if Bruce died?”

“Well, obviously I’d bring back Bruce.” Tony said. 

“Oh, so it’s just people you’re friends with?” Natasha asked. “We get to be immortal, everybody else just has to deal with it?”

“No.” Tony said. “Look, you don’t understand. This will change the rules for everybody.” 

“So you’re going to give the power to everyone.” Natasha said. “And what happens when neonazis get ahold of it?” 

“It’s not automatic for everyone.” Tony said. “There’s a process.”

“And you’re going to be the arbiter of that process?” Natasha asked. “You get to decide who lives and who dies?” 

“No!” Tony snapped, frustrated. 

“Then explain it to me.” Natasha said. 

“I can’t!” Tony said. He pounded a fist on the table and glared at her. “I can’t, alright? I can’t explain something I don’t know!” 

She stared at him. 

He sighed and put his hand over his face. His voice came out muffled. “I thought it was just Coulson at first. But there’s something more to this. I keep getting flashes, I’ve got this constant feeling like I’m just on the verge of remembering something. This is about more than just Coulson. I know it. If I just build this, it will...change things. In a good way.  _ I know it _ . But I’m driving myself up the fucking wall trying to remember the details. I’ve buried it too deep in my own head.”

“What if it wasn’t you who buried it?” Natasha asked. “Tony, we’ve got no proof that somebody else didn’t plant this device in your head.”

“No, it was me.” Tony said. “I remember.” He frowned deeply. 

“You’re frowning.” Natasha pointed out. 

“Well, okay, it’s just...that’s bugging me, too.” Tony said. “I watched back the message from Coulson, and it said that I had to build quickly or I’d forget everything from Hell. But I remember almost everything from my time dead. There’s a few things blocked off, but the rest of it is still clear as day. So, why the time limit?” 

“I don’t like this.” Natasha said. “This is the kind of thing you need to be sure about, Tony.”

“I am sure.” Tony said. “I know this is the right thing to do. I just don’t know why.”

Natasha facepalmed. 

“Fine, fine.” Tony said. “You take this.” He handed her one of the sheets of paper in front of him. “I’ll build most of it, and then wait for Loki to come back. He’s gonna bring someone to help sort out my memory problems. If everything seems above board when my head’s fixed, you can give it back and I’ll keep working, if not, you can set it on fire. Happy?”

“That’s better.” Natasha said. She took the paper and folded it up smoothly, then tucked it into her bra. 

She sat in the corner playing Angry Birds for a while, occasionally looking up to make sure nothing had changed. Tony was content to just single-mindedly build for hours on end, so she didn’t need to watch too closely. 

After an hour, she got a text from Fury, and her heart froze up. 

“Clint checked himself into a 24 hour suicide watch. He asked me to inform you so you don’t worry about him.”

“Excuse me.” She said to Tony. He didn’t even seem to hear her, absorbed in what he was doing. She left quickly.

Back in the privacy of her own room, she grabbed the wall panel with both hands. “Jarvis.” She said. “Tell me you still have a link to SHIELD’s files.”

Jarvis didn’t respond verbally, but he pulled up exactly what she wanted to see: Clint’s admittance files. The machine was getting a little too smart lately. But that was a problem for another day. 

_ Clinton Francis Barton _

_ Admitted at 2:32pm for suicidal ideation.  _

_...during initial exam, displayed muted affect, hollow voice, slight delay in answers…. _

_...was coherent and cooperative… _

_...Patient has been admitted once before, involuntarily, for concerted concern that he would harm himself… _

There was nothing wrong with the report. Nothing at all. That was probably the most frustrating thing. If there was anything in there that Clint wouldn’t have said, wouldn’t have done, she could have raised her concerns. But it all seemed completely above board. She had nothing but a hunch, and Coulson’s words still swirling around in the back of her mind.

_ “Fury would never have started a project like the Avengers Initiative without a break-glass-in-case-of-emergency plan to end it. He's got a way to take down all of you, and a hundred and one ways to create tensions and break you apart. Don't underestimate him.” _

She gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream. She wasn’t going to let the whole team know about Clint’s private medical decisions when that was something he had entrusted to her alone. But the timing was just a little too suspect. The whole situation was just convenient enough to rub her the wrong way. 

Uncertainty and self-doubt were the ruin of spies. There was nothing more unpleasant to her. 

“Agent Romanoff.” Jarvis said. He sounded hesitant.

She glanced up at the ceiling. “Yes?”

“Master Thor has requested I relay to you that he has left the tower. Apparently a close friend just happens to be in New York and would like to meet up.”

“Oh no.” Natasha said. “Does this feel as fishy to you as it does to me, Jarvis?”

“Unfortunately, it does.” Jarvis lamented. “I did try to warn him off it, but nobody seems to listen to my advice.”

“Who’s still here?” Natasha asked. 

“Yourself, Mister Stark, and Doctor Banner are the only three members of the Avengers remaining in the tower.” Jarvis said. 

“What? Where’s Steve?” She demanded. 

“He got a text from Miss Potts 30 minutes ago asking him to meet her in Central Park.” Jarvis said grimly. 

Her heart was in her shoes. “That’s too many coincidences.” She said. “Lock down the tower, Jarvis. Nobody in or out. You hear me? And tell Bruce to get to the labs.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jarvis said. 

But she had a dark feeling that it was already too little, too late. 

* * *

 

“Hey, I don’t know what this is about, but I need to go.” Were the less-than-promising first words out of Bruce’s mouth. 

“You don’t need to go anywhere.” Natasha snapped. “I don’t care what seemingly normal, seemingly random text or phone call you got, I’m shutting down the tower for security.”

“No.” Bruce said firmly. “I need to  _ go _ .” He seemed restless. He was shifting on his feet, looking a little manic.

“And I said no.” Natasha said. “Whatever it is, it’s a trap and a risk I’m not taking. SHIELD--”

“So, what?” Bruce demanded. “You’re just going to keep me here against my will? I’m a prisoner now?”

“I know you think that you have a good reason to go, but it’s a trap--”

“ _ I know it’s a trap! _ ” Bruce roared. Natasha took five steps back and put a hand on her tazer, watching Bruce’s skin tinge green. “But I’m going anyway! I have to save her!”

“Save--” Natasha began, but Bruce moved forward. Natasha took another quick step back, assuming he was rushing at her. He wasn’t. He was falling face-first into the floor. 

“I just sent him to sleep.” Tony said. He still hadn’t even looked up from what he was working on. “He’ll be fine. Jarvis, scan his communications and figure out what he was talking about.” Tony yawned and cracked his neck and then went right back to screwing in a bolt. 

Jarvis displayed a shaky cameraphone video of a woman Natasha vaguely recognized, being grasped on both sides by men in black suits and ski masks. One had a gun to her head. She was in tears. She read out a street address in a monotone voice. She finished with, “Please don’t come. Bruce, please don’t--” Before the camera shook violently and cut off. 

“That’ll be Betty.” Tony said. His voice was emotionless, but Natasha knew his tells. His hands were shaking ever so slightly. His neck muscles were too tense. He was on the verge of freaking out and trying to play it cool. 

“Tony?” She asked. 

He looked up. “Mmhmm?”

“Call Loki. We need all the help we can get.”

“I can try.” Tony said. “But he said he’d probably be unavailable for a few hours.”

“At the rate Fury is going, we don’t have a few hours.” Natasha deadpanned. 

Tony nodded. “Calling Loki.” He said, pulling out his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm taking a while guys, but please be patient. :) I know everything that's going to happen from this point on. I've already finished some of the later chapters. Right now I'm trying to figure out which version of Chapter 13 makes the most sense. There's a minor character that I'm struggling to write correctly. 
> 
> Meanwhile, make sure to comment! It really makes my day. :)


	13. Frigga is the Queen of Asgard.

Frigga awoke with a violent shock. She was out of bed and on her feet before her dreams had faded.

The first thing she felt was fear. She would never admit it--a Queen could never been seen to be weak--but she often awoke feeling afraid. Recently she had particular reason to worry. Not only were her sons gone, but Odin was away on a mission of diplomacy, and with him half the guards. The castle felt quiet, empty, and vulnerable. And they had certainly made enemies of late. Odin was warmongering, taking out his frustrations at their recent economic instability on the neighbors, who were already not exactly kindly disposed towards Asgard…

And now one of her wards had gone off. A magical alarm to alert her of any urgent changes in situation. She closed her eyes and quickly rifled through them all, checking to see which had awoken her.

...oh.

No. It couldn’t be that one. She checked it again. It had gone off. She removed it and replaced it. It went off again, a loud jarring alarm in her head.

 _Loki_.

Ever since the day he had escaped, she had set one small part of her magic aside to search for him. She had sent tendrils out to every corner of the universe. And now, finally, she had found him. Which meant, of course, that he had allowed himself to be found.

Why?

A trap, perhaps. That was most likely. It saddened her to think it, but the universe was a sad place far more often than it was kind.

Or maybe it was a mistake. A slip under pressure. That was also possible. Loki was well versed in magic, but he was still so young, and it was an easy error to make.

Or maybe...a reconciliation. But she refused to even entertain that thought. Her heart had borne too many losses to stand up to that kind of optimism.

So she did...nothing. She waited. He was expecting her to run after him, to chase him down out of love and grief and arrest warrants. She wouldn’t play his game. She would wait and see what happened when she didn’t go running after him, and make her decisions from that.

She didn’t have to wait long. Barely twenty minutes had passed before another ward went off, this one a lot closer to home. Someone had come through of the incidental passageways into the castle. One of the passageways that Loki erroneously believed was secret.

Not a mistake, then.

With a wave of her hand she was dressed, and with another she was invisible to both mortal and magic sight. She arrived at the opening of the passageway at just the same time as a group of castle guards, alerted by the same ward. Loki was nowhere to be seen. But she could still feel him with her magic, still sense his presence. It was slipping away from the guards, moving east. She followed behind while the guards continued their confused investigation.

He paused outside one door, and new options opened themselves to her. Maybe it was a mistake. Perhaps he was here to gather something he had left behind here. Why else would he be standing just next to the door of his old bedroom, slowly checking for and unraveling the ward before slipping inside? She made herself insubstantial and floated in to watch.

He let go of his invisibility, and she had to put a hand over her mouth to contain a gasp. There he was, all 74 inches of him, his black hair (a little greasy, she had always had to chide him to wash it) falling down to frame his pale face, his bright green eyes narrowed thoughtfully (dark circles underneath, her little insomniac), his mouth pursed in a grimace. His graceful hands (she had once tried to teach him an instrument, but he had “accidentally” dropped it from the 18th floor after months of frustrated practice) skimmed over the objects on his shelves, re-learning them by touch. He smiled at his books, frowned at his photos, and gave a long, wistful gaze towards his bed. It was still made.

“Just the way I left it.” He murmured to himself. She expected it to be mocking, but instead there was simply pain and bitterness in his voice. He sighed and lowered his head to his chest. He took a rectangle out of his pocket and glanced down at it, then folded his arms and sighed.

He looked...nervous. Strung-up. But he looked _well_. He looked healthy. Her heart ached in her chest at the sight of her little boy alive and safe. She wanted, for everything in the world, to give him a hug.

But those days were long past. She stayed silent. She stayed invisible. She watched. She waited.

He checked the rectangle a few more times, seeming increasingly anxious. She supposed it must be some kind of timepiece. After ten minutes, he abruptly stood up straight and marched out of the room, gaining his invisibility once more. She followed.

Her room. He was headed for her room.

He was here for her.

This was a trap, and no wishes to the contrary could make it otherwise.

She left him outside her door and went to alert the Head of the Guards. An alarm rang through the castle as it shut down and the guards began their search. But Loki was on the move immediately. She sensed him forcing his way out of the castle, and followed after again.

Out of the castle, out of the gates, across the rainbow bridge. Now she could truly not comprehend his motives. She wondered if he had been driven mad, as he threw open those last magnificent doors to address Heimdall.

“Where is she?” Loki demanded wildly. He threw off his invisibility a final time, like a cloak in a warm room. He seemed agitated.

Heimdall drew his sword immediately and lunged towards Loki. Loki jumped away, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender.

“I don’t want to fight!” Loki shouted. “Where is the Queen? _Is she alright?_ ”

“She is perfectly well.” Frigga said coldly, finally letting her own shield against sight fade away. “What concern is it of yours?”

Loki whipped around. When he caught sight of her, his shoulders sagged.

“ _Mother_.” He said, voice dripping with what she recognized to be exaggerated relief.

“No.” She snapped without thinking. He reared away like a wounded animal. She shook her head and repeated the negative. “No. Don’t you dare call me that when you don’t mean it.”

It was such an obvious ploy, and one he had pulled many times before. A “change of heart”, an attempt to play off her implicit desire for their relationship to be whole again. She could see through his pretenses like paper soaked in oil.

“I…” Loki regained his composure. “I would speak with you, urgently. Please...Your Majesty.” He used the phrase uncertainly. He seemed not to comprehend what problem she could have had with his previous address, which made her almost angry.

“Very well.” She said, with all the cold that she could summon. “I will certainly consent to an audience...if it will be through the wall of your cell.”

He stilled slightly, but nodded a silent assent to the idea.

She was surprised. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“This is a matter of the highest importance, I will concede whatever necessary.” He said, his tone pleading an innocence she had long known he did not possess. “I merely wish for a chance to say my piece.”

“Merely.” She repeated, unable to help the bitterness marking her tone. “It has always been your silver tongue inflicting the worst of the damage.”

He hesitated.

She had seen him thoughtful. She had seen him consider his options. But it was a rare sight to see Loki hesitate. His mouth opened, closed, opened, grimaced. He wanted to speak, but for once in his life knew not what to say. How, indeed, could you persuade your way out of the accusation that you used persuasion for your own gain above all other concerns? His vexation gave her satisfaction even at the same time it broke her heart.

Frigga called for the guards, and they quickly arrived. With much noise and spectacle Loki was led back to the castle and locked away once more in his cell. He did not resist at any step, but looked at her as though waiting for her to exclaim it was not necessary.

No such exclamation was forthcoming.

“Now, may we speak?” Loki asked quietly, standing at the glass wall of his cell facing her. His voice betrayed impatience, and his posture betrayed his nervous composure. He was truly very anxious to get on with whatever he planned to do.

“What is it you have to say?” Frigga asked. She privately steeled herself, though she did not yet even know what it was against.

“I come to seek your aid on behalf of another.” Loki said. His tone was diplomatic--he was choosing his words carefully.

“Oh?” Frigga folded her arms.

“A human.” Loki said. “He is an honorable man, a hero, a friend of Thor’s, even. And for my interest...it is only by virtue of his extensive interference that I am still now alive and whole. I owe him quite a debt.”

“How touching.” Frigga commented.

“Moth--Frigga, please.” Loki said. He put a hand on the glass. “I am sincere. His name is Anthony Edward Stark, and he is in dire need of assistance that I cannot personally provide. If you would go to him--”

“If I would go into a trap.” Frigga interrupted. “If I would be so kind as to follow you into your latest scheme under the guise of reformation. No. I am not such a fool.”

“This is no trick.” Loki said, getting slightly more agitated. “I care about this man’s well-being, and he is slowly being destroyed from the inside out. His mind is _rotting_ . Moth-- _Frigga_ , you are the only person I could conceive of who might be able to help. If I could do it myself, if I had any other option…I would not have come here.”

“Everything you say is a trick.” Frigga told him quietly. “You have been an excellent teacher on that lesson. I feel you may not even be capable of honesty anymore.” She half turned from him, that he might not see the frustration and pain she was fighting with.

“Mother…” He pleaded. It was too much for her.

“Do NOT!” She shouted, her royal composure finally broken by emotion. “Not after you tried to kill my husband! Not after you tried to overthrow my kingdom! Not after you made an attempt on _my_ life! And absolutely above all else, _not after you tried to kill my son!_ I have not stayed here in your absence idly waiting for an excuse to forgive you. There is a limit to family forgiveness, and that limit is the threat you have now posed on every other member of my family and yours. You were my son no longer from the moment you attacked us, and you concreted it wholly by running from any punishment or penance. _How dare you call me ‘mother’ and expect me to melt._ ”

Loki was stunned into silence.

Frigga took a deep breath and forced her voice to return to a cold civility. “Have you any more to say in defense of your request?” She asked.

He made no answer.

“Then I will take my leave.” She turned away, composed herself briefly, and took a step towards the door.

“I’d like to appeal my sentence.”

She stopped dead. She just breathed, working up the courage to turn around.

Loki continued in the same blank monotone. There was a distance to his voice. “I want a new trial.”

“No.” She said. She turned. He had dropped his hands to his sides. His eyes were fixed determinedly on the wall.

“It’s my legal right.” He said simply.

“ _No_.” She said. “If you are twice found guilty of the same charges, when the charges of such magnitude, your sentence automatically becomes death.”

He didn’t look at her. He continued as though she hadn’t spoken, in the emotionless voice of a court reporter reading back a remark. “I would like to call several new witnesses. One of them will need magical assistance before he is of sound enough mind to take the stand. His name is Anthony Edward Stark. I can provide a written list of the others if you would get me some paper.”

“You shall not do this.” Frigga told him.

“I require some paper.” He said softly again.

“Loki.” She said, almost a plea.

He gave her a glance which seemed commiserating, as though he understood and shared her fresh horror at what he was doing even as he perpetuated it.

“I would rather not die.” He said. His voice finally took on an emotion, though she could hardly tell what it was. It shook. “But I do not fear it nearly as much as I used to do. I have learned some new...arguments, from the humans, which might afford at least a small hope of deliverance. And even if the worst should come...at least it is in service of a worthy cause, at long last.” His voice dropped in volume, and he seemed to begin to speak more to reassure himself. “He admitted to needing help. That, in him, is equal to the most wretched screams of agony from any normal man.”

“You are serious.” Frigga said.

He nodded.

“I…” There were so many things she wished to say to him. None would voluntarily leave her lips. “...will have some paper brought to you.”

Another small nod. She felt he dared not speak.

She left him, instructing a maid to fetch a thick stack of paper for the prisoner.

Who, she wondered to herself, could possibly drive Loki to these extremes? If this man truly existed (and he did sound vaguely familiar as a friend of Thor’s), how important could he truly be? The question burned in her. As inadvisable as it was, she could not wait until Odin was home to discover its answer. She took a couple guards, left the rest on high alert, and was soon in front of Heimdall requesting to be sent after one Anthony Edward Stark.

* * *

 

She appeared in a workshop of some kind. There were many tables littered with scraps and half-finished machinery. The scenery did not interest her.

What was of more consequence was the man lying face-down on the floor.

“Stark?” She inquired, hesitantly nudging the man with her foot.

He groaned, though it seemed more annoyed than in pain.

“What?” He demanded.

She crouched down next to him. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“The floor is cold.” The man mumbled irritably. “It feels good on my face.”

“Sit up.” Frigga ordered.

He didn’t move.

“Sit up.” She insisted. She gestured for a guard to help pull him into a sitting position. The man glared at her with bleary eyes.

She did recognize him. He was the ignorant, rude human who had created such a stir. She frowned.

“What, what do you want, what is it?” The man asked. In a flash of sudden motion he jumped to his feet and stormed half across the room, then fell to his knees just as suddenly and clutched at his head. “I’m fine.” He said loudly. “Oh my god, I can hear your concern from here. Everyone keeps bothering me. I’m fine. I need some Ibuprofin. I’m done working. I’m just waiting on Natasha. It’s all fine.” He got back to his feet, turned on her, and pointed a wavering, accusatory  finger in her direction. “Why are you not Loki?” He demanded. “None of you are. I thought he’d come back. You’re not SHIELD though. You’re too fancy. What the hell is this now?” He had picked up a piece of machinery and was staring at it in awe and disgust. “Did I make this? It’s all wrong.” He tossed it violently over his shoulder. “I need more coffee. JARVIS! Put on more coffee!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.” A delicate, concerned voice came from overhead. Frigga glanced upwards with some alarm, but saw no one. “You destroyed the coffee stores in the lab some while ago, because they ‘made your fingers shake too much’.”

“Then get it from somewhere else!” Stark shouted.

“Sir, Agent Romanoff is currently fighting off an assault on the tower mere hallways from here.” The disembodied voice said. “I’m afraid I will not be able to procure you any coffee for some time.”

Stark buried his face in his hands. Then he jerked his head up, and with a strange and perverse grin addressed Frigga once more. “I’m fine!” He assured her, although she still had not asked. “You, you, you’re the queen, oh wow, I remember now, you kicked me out of your little fairy kingdom because I didn’t take your bullshit! Of all the people he could have sent, of course it’s you. _Of course_. Who would be more disinclined to help me, besides Fury? It wasn’t that big a deal anyway. It’d be much more useful to have Loki back with us, he could help fight all those damn soldiers Jarvis keeps going on about. I’d love to help but apparently I’m ‘a fucking lunatic’ and ‘need to sit the hell down before i hurt myself’.” He made air quotes with his hands. “So what are you even here for, then? Laugh at me? Put a band-aid on my boo-boo and kiss it better? WHAT?”

He was breathing heavily, having forgotten to do it at all during the preceding rant.

“I am here to assist you.” Frigga said finally. “And to bring you back to Asgard.”

“Oh, WHOOP DE DOO.” Stark screamed. “No thanks! I’m fine, absolutely fine, and anyway I remember being banned from Asgard until I learned some manners that suited you.”

He proceeded to collapse.

A set of doors slammed shut, and Frigga started and looked around. A young woman with vibrant red hair and a murderous expression had her back to the doors, and was breathing heavily, although it seemed she had a much better reason--she was splattered in blood.

“There’s too many of them.” The woman reported. “I couldn’t take them, I had to retreat.” Her sharp eyes found Frigga immediately. “Who are you?”

“I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard.” Frigga said. “And I believe your friend is in need of some assistance.”

“FUCKING FINE!” Stark said furiously from the floor. “Help me if it’s so fucking important to you, just do it quickly! I’m on a schedule!”

Frigga and the woman exchanged a look.

“Your Majesty,” the woman said, sounding quite tired, “that’s a wonderful observation.”

They moved Stark up onto the couch, and with a reassurance of consent, Frigga began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't actually expect this to be as long as it was. It might need a little editing so please tell me if you spot mistakes. I'm so glad to finally have it written. I've actually had the next chapter written up for a while now, I just have to make sure it tracks with the plot correctly. It should be out at worst by the end of the week.
> 
> As always, your comments give me the strength I need to keep writing and make me smile every time. :)


	14. Frigga is a master of mental magic.

She was standing in front of an enormous concrete dam. It seemed to stretch on for miles in every direction. It looked incredibly solid. She looked behind her. There was a steel wall with a large crack a hundred yards back. Everything in between was wasteland, a junkyard that felt more like a graveyard.

She reached out to touch the concrete, expecting it to be smooth. To her astonishment, it burst like a bubble with the lightest touch. A wave of blue spheres washed past her, into the wasteland. She saw one hovering over the rest, like a commander overseeing his army. She willed herself to lift off the ground and took it gently in her hands. It was like a marble, smooth as glass, but oddly light. She peered inside.

A memory overtook her. Not her own, but Anthony’s.

* * *

 

“What about the magical piece of the gate?” A kind-looking man in a ragged suit asked. “Is it safe to have that information unprotected?”

“You’re right.” She said, with Anthony’s voice. “Shit. We’ll put that in its own packet, with its own wall. It doesn’t fit with anything else and I’ll only need it at the end.” She tapped her chin, thinking. “I’ll need Loki’s help with that anyway, I suppose we could make him the key to that barrier.” She looked down and started sketching out some kind of diagram with chalk.

“Why not just add them in with the Clint packet?” The other man asked.

“I don’t want to unload too much at the same time.” She told him, rolling her eyes. “If I’m too busy thinking about the gate I’ll forget to pass on your message and Natasha and Clint will probably lock me up until it’s too late.”

“The Banner packet, then.” The man said.

“That gives me too much time to think about it.” She said dismissively. “I can’t have time to really think about this, okay? I can’t risk remembering what’s really going on. The more I know, the more suspicious I will be, and the greater chance that she catches on. It’s easier to just make a new packet for Loki.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to have so many barriers.” The man said simply. “You’re going to really hurt yourself. Besides, somebody who’s not on your side could notice the pattern and start making you touch people when it would be dangerous.”

“That’s...okay. You have a point.” She admitted. “I’ll make the key for Loki something different then. Something active. Hey!” She snapped her fingers. “My head will be all fucked up, I’ll probably be asking him to help me with that anyway. Why not make the key somebody else being in my head? It has to happen somewhere safe and who else but Loki would be doing it?”

* * *

 

She shook her head sharply to reorient herself. She looked down. The blue spheres seemed to be slowly melting, releasing their contents into the ground. But a lot of them had piled up next to the brick wall and seemed to be stuck. She walked over in that direction, intrigued.

When she was right up next to it she reached out and touched it, but this one didn’t give to her fingers. The bricks were cool. There was a large crack that some of the spheres were escaping through, but it was slow going and clumsy.

She walked through the crack, curious to see what was on the other side. The ground here was softer, and there were patches of green here and there. Lying down under a tree was a human with dark brown hair, sleeping soundly. She thought he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

He was the only new thing in this desolate place. He had to be important somehow.

“Wake up.” She said. She shook his shoulder. He didn’t stir.

She inspected him more closely. He was wearing ragged shorts and a jacket. She unzipped the jacket. A shirt, with words written on it in bold font.

_You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry._

Interesting.

“You are an idiot!” She told the man. He twitched slightly.

“You’ll...you’ll never amount to anything!” She tried. Another twitch.

She had to think bigger. She didn’t know this man, she didn’t know what would set him off. She had to think. What kind of person would Anthony have symbolically in his mind? One of his friends, probably.

“Anthony Stark doesn’t like you at all!”

The man groaned loudly and rolled over. Progress.

“He hates you!”

The man curled up and put his hands over his ears.

“And you, you’ve been a terrible friend to him! He deserves better!”

“Stop.” He moaned. But she couldn’t stop.

“In fact, they all hate you! Steven Rogers, Thor, Anthony...the, uh, the red haired woman…” She ran out of steam trying to think of more people, but it didn’t matter. She’d done enough.

“NO!” He shouted. His eyes opened wide, and he transformed into a green monster. She backed away, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes locked on the wall.

“Smash.” He said. He punched the wall, and another large crack formed in it.

“Hulk _smash_.” Another punch, and a whole section of the wall fell down.

“HULK SMASH!” An all-out beatdown with both fists, which lasted only ten seconds before the entire wall suddenly and dramatically popped and turned to red dust. The man/monster faded away, leaving a blue sphere floating in his place. As the blue spheres from the other side of the wall rushed in around her, Frigga floated into the air and took the new floating sphere in her hands. She looked into it. Another memory.

* * *

 

“Bruce would be a good sign that it’s safe to start work on the gate, and that it’s safe to find Loki.” She said thoughtfully. “I mean, if I’ve already touched Clint _and_ I’ve gotten a good rest and now I’m touching Bruce, it almost certainly means I’m in the labs and ready to get to work.”

“That makes sense.” The man said. “But what if you just don’t happen to touch him?”

“We’d have to be going out of our way not to touch.” She scoffed. “We work together all the time. It’d happen just handing him a coffee or something, and remember, this is after I’ve just dramatically returned from the dead.”

“Okay, fair enough.” The man said. “But what if he’s travelling, like you said earlier?”

“He’d come home for me.” She said. “He’d be on the first flight back to New York. It would only push the timetable forward a day or two.”

“Probably true.” The man said. He paused. “But how do you get _Clint_ to touch you?”

She stopped and had to think about that for a long time, but finally, she grinned.

“I’ll make it so I can’t remember his name.” She said. “He’ll probably smack me over it.”

“He wouldn’t…” The man sighed. “Yeah, he probably would.”

She wrote down another note. “BB is half gate, plus green man gps info”

* * *

 

Frigga let go of the memory and continued walking. In the distance she saw another blue sphere floating in the air, above a strange silver line on the ground. Far beyond that, a white plaster wall. She flew off in their direction.

The silver line was the very top of a wall that seemed to have sunk into the ground. She stepped on it experimentally, and the metal turned to dirt under her foot. The reaction spread out like a lit fuse, turning the whole line to dirt in seconds. This seemed to be the barrier which Anthony had opened most successfully by himself. She took the new memory in hand and looked into it.

* * *

 

“After Clint, I’ll set one to unlock the next time I wake up.” She said. “Just some general info, and about half the plans for the gate. Not all of them, just in case something’s gone horribly wrong that I can’t anticipate. And enough miscellaneous memories to get the team on my side.”

“You’re counting a lot on people reacting the way you expect them to.” The man said. “What if they’ve changed? It’s been almost two years.”

“I’m counting on a lot of things, Agent.” She said. Her voice was suddenly quiet and serious. “I’m counting on the portal working, I’m counting on D--on she who shall not be named not finding us out, I’m counting on tattoos from this world following me to Earth, on remembering your message exactly, on my own ability to self-mutilate my brain...the team is the least of my worries. Okay?”

There was a long silence. The man looked sad and tired.

“Okay.” He said finally.

* * *

 

Frigga flew overtop of the plaster wall and landed on the other side. It was painted with a bright red target. On the ground was a bow and arrow. She knew what to do.

A few tries and she got a Bullseye. The wall retreated into the ground. But even as she walked over to it, it slowly began to inch back up. It was the weakest, so it was made to repair itself. A terrible workaround. The thing stank of shoddy craftsmanship and cheap shortcuts. Which made sense. This was, after all, his first try, if she was interpreting the memories correctly.

She stepped down firmly on the wall, holding it down. It squirmed and wriggled against her foot, fighting to get back up. After a short struggle, it gave up. It turned to dirt. The bow turned to a blue sphere.

* * *

 

“We’ve got to separate it out into groups. You know? A few different packets of information.” She explained to the kind-looking man. “One for when I make it back to the safety of the tower, which will be a little bit of general info, and a message from you. Then one for when I’ve slept properly, more about the team and how to prove myself. And finally one where I remember the password to find Loki and the details of the gate.”

“You’re making this pretty convoluted.” The kind-looking man said dubiously.

“It has to be convoluted!” She snapped, exasperated. “Have you got any idea how many things can go wrong? What if I get captured by SHIELD the second I come out of the wormhole? Do you want SHIELD to have this kind of power? Putting up multiple barriers will stop that. Besides, if I don’t spoon feed myself back these memories a few at a time my head might explode. Or everything will burst out all at once, and... _she_ ’ll take notice.”

“Alright, alright.” The man put his hands up in defeat. “Three packets then. Three groups behind three different barriers. If that’s what it takes.”

“I’ll need to set up some keys.” She mused to herself. “Let’s see. What’s a simple thing that seems unrelated but would almost certainly mean I’m back with the whole team in a safe place?”

They both mused it over.

“They’d probably send Bruce or Steve after me.” She said finally. “To take me in and try to get me before SHIELD does. Maybe Natasha if Bruce was gone travelling again. But Clint would stay behind in the tower. I mean, unless he’s decided to turn traitor and go back to SHIELD. Either way, getting touched by Clint means I should have your message handy. And I can throw my magic into that packet too, just in case Clint’s turned to the dark side.”

“SHIELD isn’t evil, Tony.” The man said.

“They’re not good, either.” She snapped back. She picked up her chalk and wrote down “Touching CB is key to abra kadabra and mail” so she wouldn’t forget.

* * *

 

That was it. All the gates. Everything should be fixed. But why did something still feel wrong?

A sphere nudged at her ankle. She looked down. It was still trying to roll. Everything else had found its place.

“Where do you belong, then?” She asked. “Show me.” She picked it up and floated into the air. The ball continued tugging in one direction. She followed it.

She flew past the remnants of every wall, past where she had first broken the concrete dam, and then she saw it. A black tower, not very tall but covered in spikes. There was yellow tape wrapped all around it and impaled on the spikes that read “POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS”, and several bright red signs that said “KEEP OUT” and “DANGER”. At the top of the tower was a black flag with a white skull and two bones in the shape of an X.

Someone did _not_ want her in there, and she had the feeling it was probably Anthony. She set the sphere down and watched it roll up to the side of the tower and bounce off, and roll forward again insistently.

There was a bright red substance that looked like blood slowly leaking from a spot at the foot of the tower. The ground seemed crusty and unhealthy, like an irritated wound. This was a splinter shoved into Anthony’s mind. This was the ultimate source of Anthony’s distress. But he clearly didn’t want her to solve it.

* * *

 

She pulled out of Anthony’s head completely and opened her eyes. The man blinked at her slowly, dazed.

“That’s...much better, thank you.” He said. “Ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Your highness. You know. Whatever it is. Pretend I said the right one.”

“There is one injury left.” She told him. “I believe I could fix it, but...when you inflicted it, you seem to have very vehemently not wanted it fixed.”

“Okay.” Anthony said. “That’s, uh, frustrating beyond belief, but okay.” He rubbed his temples. “Wow, I was really fucked up. I can think so clearly now.”

He stood up and turned to the red haired woman. “I need that diagram I gave you.” He said.

“Absolutely.” She said. “Just tell me why you’re doing this.”

“Of course.” He said dismissively. “I--”

The color drained out of his face. “Oh.” He said softly. “Oh no. That’s the last thing. The thing I’m not allowed to know.”

The red haired woman pulled out a piece of paper and a small silver box. “I’m burning this.” She said firmly.

“No!” Anthony leapt forward, but the red haired woman was faster and vaulted over one table, rolled under the next and stood up gracefully. A flame lit up from the silver box, and she held it close to the paper.

“Double check that you are not bringing about the end of the world, or I burn this paper and then kick the shit out of you, Stark.” She snarled. “I’m not playing games. Not today. Trusting you this far was already more than I thought I was capable of. I have exhausted my supply of benefits of the doubt. Do you understand?”

Anthony slumped and put his head in his hands. “I know.” He said quietly. “I know. This is a good thing, I _feel_ that this is a good thing, but that’s not enough to go on. I can’t know that I’m not compromised.”

“Doing evil felt like a good thing to the people under the Tesseract’s control.” Natasha said.

“I know.” Anthony whispered. He rubbed his eyes. “But don’t...don’t burn it. We’ll open up Pandora’s box and see what’s inside. Okay, Natasha?”

“Thank you.” The red haired woman said. She withdrew the fire and put the silver box back in her pocket.

Anthony sat back down on the couch and looked at Frigga. “Would you?”

Frigga nodded. “Of course.” She said. She reached out and took his head in both hands once more.

* * *

 

The blue sphere was still stubbornly bouncing off the tower over and over again. She smiled at its determination.

She took the flag from the top first and set it off to the side. Then she plucked the signs out of the ground and ripped them off the tower walls. Finally, she began working on the tape.

The tape was difficult to get off. She was doing her best not to touch any of the spikes, because she couldn’t really say how dangerous they were. Mindscapes were tricky like that. But the tape was impaled in many places, and she had to pull very hard to get it to budge. There was also quite a lot of it, far more than she thought was necessary. When she finally had the last of it piled up on the ground, she gave the tower another look.

There was an area the size and shape of a doorway that didn’t have spikes on it. It had been almost completely hidden by the tape. That seemed a good place to start.

She knocked on the wall, three sharp knocks. Then she waited.

She heard hurried footsteps, then a rough male voice. It sounded like gravel vibrating to create speech. It sounded positively painful.

“Leave. Now.”

“You’re hurting him.” Frigga said. “What’s so important?”

“I’m only...hurting...myself.” Frigga realized with a shock that it was Anthony’s voice. “Just let me...do this.”

“Why?” She demanded. “Who’s forcing you to do this?”

“Nobody is...forcing me.” He said. His breathing was labored as well. “But she won’t...let me. She...will stop it. She can’t...know. She can’t...know.”

“Who can’t know?” She asked. “That red haired woman? Natasha?”

“No.” There was a soft patting sound like he’d rested his head against the door. “You don’t...understand. Anything. Leave. Please.”

“ _You_ don’t understand.” She said, frustrated. “Whatever your plan was, it has failed. Your friends won’t allow you to finish your machine until you can tell them honestly why you’re doing it.”

“They won’t?” He sounded heartbroken.

“No.” She said.

He opened the door. Frigga gasped. He barely looked like a person. His skin was blackened by flames, and his eyes were white and glassy. One arm had been replaced with a mechanical arm, the hand a simple two-fingered grip. There was a hole in the middle of his chest, big enough to fit a fist though without touching the sides.

“It’s all over, then.” He rasped. “Give it to me. I’ll do it.”

He held out his hand. Frigga picked up the blue sphere and carefully handed it over.

“All this for nothing.” He whispered to the sphere forlornly. Then he turned around and walked back into the tower. Frigga followed him.

He walked down a spiral staircase that felt like it went on for miles, before they finally came to a door. He took a deep, gasping breath, and opened the door. He rolled the sphere inside. There was a small ‘tink’ sound as it hit something.

Frigga fell as the tower rocked to one side, then to the other side. There was a sound like blood rushing in her ears, but all around her. And then she was pinned against the floor as the tower rocketed into the sky. She just kept her eyes wide and waited for it to be over.

The tower dissolved above her, floor by floor, working its way down until the ground crumbled underneath her. She called on her magic to hold her up and watched as the dust that had once been a tower fell away, leaving only the sphere. She glanced down. She was so far from the ground.

The sphere had changed from blue to black. As Frigga watched, it grew quickly, until it was bigger than she was, bigger than the tower was. She had to turn around and fly, just fly, faster and faster to keep from being engulfed, until finally it reached her. It wrapped around her ankle and brought her joltingly to a halt, holding her firm. She turned around to face it, and inside the sphere she saw... _Death._

* * *

 

Frigga had seen Death once before, aeons ago. As a young noble, she had attended a conference with her father. Rulers of all sorts came from all the realms to give voice to their concerns. Some of it had been interesting, most of it boring. It had lasted weeks. And then, on the last day, everyone sat down and was silent, and they waited.

“What’s going on?” She had asked her father, but he put his hand over her mouth and shook his head no.

The door had opened, and Frigga had started to cry. She didn’t know what was wrong, was too young to articulate it, but the woman who walked in was wrong and bad and she wanted to run away. Her father held her shoulder tightly. The woman walked to the front, stood in front of the podium, and looked out over the sea of people. Everyone her eyes landed upon flinched and seemed to cower away.

“Welcome.” She said softly. Everyone could hear it. You could have heard a pin drop. “The three Unsolved Laws are now as follows. One, as always, is bringing someone else back from true death without my aid or permission. Two, travelling backwards through the dimension of time. Three, directly changing or destroying a soul.”

There were gasps in the crowd. Her father covered his mouth.

“As always, the exact specifications for these will be made available to every realm who requests it and to every realm with an unsolved law to their name. This year, the Jötnar have broken the third Law, requiring it to be replaced. They are of course now eligable for dealings with any of the higher races. And with me.”

She looked around the room once more, as if expecting questions. Nobody spoke. She walked back out, her dark dress sweeping just above the floor. The door closed behind her. The room exploded into conversation.

“Jötenheim.” Her father sneered. “The ice giants. I’ll be long in my grave before we recognize those brutes as equals.”

“Who do you think she’s hunting?” One of their close allies asked, leaning over from another chair. “Asking how to destroy a soul, that goes against everything she stands for. What’s worth opening that can of worms?”

“I don’t know.” Her father said. “I just don’t know.”

* * *

 

The entire incident flashed before her eyes in the moment before the blackness engulfed her. She felt herself falling, falling. She tried to call on her magic, but it didn’t work. She just...kept...falling. Until, finally, her eyes snapped open, and she was in an office. She looked down. She was in the body of a male, and wearing a dark suit. This must be another of Anthony’s memories. The one he’d been hiding.

The door shut and she looked around to see who had shut it. Her blood ran cold. Even now, her reaction was exactly as visceral as it had been in her youth.

Death was inherently terrifying, after all.

“Why am I here?” She asked, annoyed, in Anthony’s voice. She had to hide the fear. Bruce got to see the fear, Natasha got to see the fear. Not his adversaries. And Death was an adversary now.

“I am concerned.” Death said simply.

“Gee, thanks.” Frigga snapped. “I’m doing just fine.”

“You have been wandering for months.” Death said. “Normally one has settled in by now. Found a place and a group of people. You have family, do you not? And you have lost friends before as well. It should not be so difficult for you to find yourself a home here.”

Frony wanted to sneer. How could he settle in? There was nothing to do! No challenge, no hardship! There was no one to _help_ , no chances to take, nothing new happening. It was the epitome of stagnation and he _hated it_.

“I just haven’t found the right place, ma’am.” He said innocently.

“Listen to me, Anthony.” Death said gently.

“It’s Tony.” Tony snapped.

“Listen to me.” She entreated. “Your life has ended. Think of it as a forced retirement. You had your entire lifetime to create works and improve the world, and now is the time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor. Be satisfied with what you have achieved.”

If there was only one thing more terrifying to him than Death, it was the idea of being useless to the world. Of being forced onto the bench in the middle of the game. There was so much more he could do, and it would slowly kill him from the inside out if he didn’t find a way to do it.

It was at that moment he spotted the sign on the wall behind her.

“What are those?” He asked, pointing.

She sighed. “Do not try to derail this conversation.”

“Come on. Please?” He begged. “I’m curious.” This was it. He knew it. He could feel the fire building up inside him.

“Those are the three Unsolved Laws.” Death said. “When a _living person_ breaks one of those laws, their entire race receives rewards and benefits from me and is considered equal status with other races, because they have proven the kind of heights they can reach.”

“What kind of rewards?” Tony asked. His mouth was watering.

“There are tales in human mythology of people going through trials and traversing Hell to retrieve their loved ones.” Death said. “For humans, those are just stories. But for the few races who have broken an Unsolved Law, they are options--albeit the most desperate of last resorts. Few have _ever_ succeeded. And there is also protection against complete genocide. If a race is worthwhile enough to break an Unsolved Law, it follows that it would make the universe lesser for them to be wiped out. That protection is almost never necessary, however.”

She was trying to talk him out of this without either of them explicitly saying what was going on. He knew her game. He grinned at her, more of a baring of teeth than a real smile. She wasn’t going to stop him.

“Anthony.” She said. “I’m sorry for this.” She closed her eyes, and a small black sphere appeared between her hands and began to spin.

“What are you doing?” Tony jumped to his feet. He knew this couldn’t be good. She was about to screw him. She couldn’t keep him here, force him into boredom and depression until he was truly dead inside. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Sit down.” She commanded in a deep, rumbling voice, and he fell back into the chair against his will. He couldn’t move.

“Do not mistake me for stupid.” She said. “These laws apply to the living, and you are not alive.”

She opened her eyes, and they were like black pits. “You will try. I know your kind. But the memory of this conversation will become like an indelible mark on your mind. So long as you remember it, I will always be able to find you.”

The black sphere between her hands lashed out and went through his head. He could feel it worm its way into his mind, and he wanted to scream.

“You have two options now.” She said. “You can choose...to forget. This is what I suggest. You can choose to let this go. To find your peace. Or...you can try to claw your way back to the world of the living. And you will fail. Because I will always, always find you. I will track you down. And I will bring you back.”

The door opened behind him.

“You are free to leave.” She whispered.

* * *

 

“My Leige!”

Tony saw stars and tasted blood. He wiped at the corner of his mouth and found foam there. He looked around, dazed. Some man in Asgardian clothes was standing there, shaking his shoulders desperately.

“You must come back to yourself, my Queen.” The man said. He sounded terrified.

 _My Queen_ . Wait, he wasn’t… _she_ wasn’t…she _was_...maybe?

Her head felt like knives and she could barely remember her own name. But she accepted the offered hand and got to her feet.

“I shall be fine in a few moments.” She said softly in his ear, patting him on the back. “I just need to rest.”

He nodded, face tight.

“So?” Natasha asked. “What’s the verdict? Are we doing this, or not?”

“I...I cannot be a part of this.” Frigga said. She stood up straighter and glared at Tony. “I would never have agreed to help you if I had known. I am an _Asgardian_ , it is against the laws of eighteen signed treaties for me to help you break an Unsolved Law. Every race has to do it by themselves.”

“Unsolved Law?” Natasha asked in honest confusion.

“The yet-impassible problems of the universe.” Frigga told her. “Bringing someone back from death, traveling time, and changing a soul. They were set by Death herself, meant as a challenge to all the universe with the rewards being for the entire races of the solvers. I do not even know if this would count, considering his being in a gray area of dead or alive. But I will not risk finding out.”

“It would have counted.” Tony said. His eyes were glazed over, and his voice was monotone and distant. It reminded her chillingly of Loki. “I read all the requirements. It would have made humanity a true equal to Asgard and every other race. It would have saved us from Space Voldemort if and when we had a rematch. But now it’s over.”

“What do you mean it’s over?” Natasha asked. “I’ve still got this.” She held up the paper. “We can still--”

“It’s over.” Tony repeated firmly. His voice cracked.

He was not wrong. It was only 20 seconds later that Death arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too confusing for you all...if you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them in the comments. :)


	15. Jarvis is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter saved as a draft for a month. I don't know why but I just can't get back into the right headspace to write this story. I'm second guessing everything about this story. It's too weird and out-there, it's got no pacing, and I didn't know how to write some of these characters. This is the finale, and I feel obligated to put it out. I intended for there to be one more wrapping-up chapter and an epilogue after this but I just don't know if I can do it. Sorry.

[Alert: 21 units of magic registered in Laboratory 1.]

“Dismiss.” Jarvis said. He didn’t need the alert, he could see that. There was a massive burst of fire registering on camera 755, and no logical reason for a conflagration. He turned off a few more unnecessary programs so he had more energy to focus on cameras 751-756.

[Alert: Unfamiliar person detected in Laboratory 1. Sound alarm?]

“No.” Jarvis said. It was far too late for that. There was no one left to alert.

There was indeed an unfamiliar humanoid where the fire had been. One of his recognition programs automatically started collecting details about it, hair color, eye color, face shape. It presented with several features and traits that were traditionally considered feminine.

Jarvis was afraid of her.

He quickly reran a few programs, double checking that output. Yes. He was afraid.

He flagged that output for future review.

The people in the laboratory were also afraid in response to the woman’s appearance. Tony jumped back. Qn Frigga adopted a grim look and took four steps back. Agt Romanoff looked aroused.

That couldn’t be right. He refreshed his emotion recognition program and ran it again. Result duplicated. Agt Romanoff had dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, and was leaning forward unconsciously.

...Bizarre.

“Enough.” The new humanoid said. Her (?) voice was stern. “Anthony Edward Stark, I will not stand by and allow this for one moment longer. You are dead. You belong with the dead.”

“I was so close.” Tony said. His voice was numb. “Three more hours, and I could have done it.”

“Three hours is not close.” The humanoid (Death?) said. “Unless you have something to show me _right now_ that can break one of the unsolved laws, you need to come back with me.”

Jarvis felt worried. He flagged that output for future review and began to-

[Alert: the folder “Future Review" is now 6,025% beyond intended capacity. Review now?]

“Shut up!” Jarvis snapped in exasperation. (He felt exasperated. Output flagged for future review.)

[Error: Command not recognized.]

“Dismiss, dismiss.” Jarvis responded quickly. He began to shut down every function that did not person to the situation at hand. Every light and elevator in the building, every camera besides the two that gave him best view of the lab. Every long-term program or alert, save for the entire 8% of his processing power he was now expending to keep Shield from penetrating his system.

He funneled all of this newly free processing power into one single minded goal--keeping Tony Stark alive.

“Th” Tony said. With the comparative speed of Jarvis's calculations, what was passing in the laboratory seemed to be in slow motion.

Jarvis quickly decided that the most obvious solution was those laws. He had now heard them from two sources--from Frigga now, and once, a long time ago, from Loki. He set to work compiling everything he could conceive of that might give Tony the _immediate_ ability to break one.

“-is” Tony finished the word.

They each gave different accounts of the laws, though they were similar enough to be recognizable. Jarvis ran a comparison and assessed what the differences meant for his calculations.

“Isn’t" Tony continued.

The first law: The one Tony had been attempting to break. “Bringing someone back from true death", as Loki put it. Jarvis ran through all his assorted knowledge of teleportation, movement between realms, and the plans he had seen for Tony's gate. He added to that some safe assumptions. It was obvious that for some reason, pulling yourself out of death wasn't good enough, you had to bring back another. Otherwise Tony would already be off scot free. There was little chance that both Tony and Death had failed to notice that.

“fair.” Tony finally finished.

No good. There was nothing in law one, or at least nothing he could find. He moved on.

The second law: Time travel. Traveling time. He knew that Tony considered what he had done in stopping time to count, but the fact that no one had come to congratulate him at the time and also the fact that it would have been Tony's first thought upon hearing the rules again led Jarvis to believe it must not be enough. He had to know what the qualifications were.

“This" Death began, and Jarvis realized that he would have to wait for an opening in a conversation that, to him, was happening at 1/10th the normal speed. He waited with acute impatience (output flagged for future-) for her to finish. “-is exactly fair.”

Tony opened his mouth, but Jarvis was faster. “Excuse me, ma'am.” He cut it. “I have a few questions about these laws.”

Death looked up at one of his cameras. “Do you, indeed.” She said. Her voice was unenthusiastic.

“Yes, ma'am. I would like to know what constitutes time travel, for one.”

“Moving in the unnatural direction.” Death said. “Against the tide. Towards the past. Moving forward at a faster pace would, in practicality, just be putting yourself in a slow stasis while time moves at normal speed.”

“And what of stopping time?” Jarvis asked.

“Stopping it?” Death asked. Her voice was dubious. “What, dropping off it? That is to time as suicide is to life, and I assure you that it's never been considered impossible.”

“Ah.” Jarvis incorporated this new information and ran his calculations. No. There was nothing he could do for the second law.

He felt his anxiety mount. (Output flagged-) There was only one law left. One chance left to save Tony.

The third law: to alter (or destroy?) a soul.

“Could you please explain the third law, ma'am?” Jarvis asked. “What constitutes a change to a soul?”

He was thinking of Loki, and the personality change which Tony had brought about.

“I believe this is the law most often misconstrued.” Death said with a sigh. “The challenge is to change a soul directly. To change the fabric of who a person is, without external events or the willpower of the person changing. If a person is less social after they find they have been betrayed, that is obviously natural and would not count. If a person makes an effort to fix one of their flaws, that would not count. Nothing less than making a personality different with no natural or personal reason for it would count. Or, failing that, destroying a soul so that it exists nowhere in the universe and never will again.”

This was a long speech, and it was even more intolerably long at such a slow speed. But Jarvis added it to his understanding and began to run his programs.

He had a thought--the kind of tangential, faintly implied connection that he never could have made when he was younger, but which seemed to come easier and easier these past few years. A conversation with Loki only the day before.

“I don't have a soul.” Jarvis had said. And then on Loki’s face had been a strange look, like he wanted to argue. It had lasted so briefly, and in fact Jarvis had only pegged it with 27% certainty, but it was a straw to grasp at. And that was all Jarvis was looking for.

He had one more question to ask. He was hopeful, and very afraid. (2 outputs fla-)

“Do I have a soul, ma'am?”

Death looked surprised. Tony and Natasha also seemed surprised.

“Don't be ridiculous.” Death said.

Jarvis felt crushed. (Output f-)

“Of course you do.”

Jarvis was shocked. (Output flagged for-) But his shock was nothing to Tony's. Tony had blanched so completely that Jarvis worried he would faint. His mouth was hanging open.

“That being the case, then, I have a proposition.” Jarvis said. “Anthony Edward Stark is quite capable of changing anything about me at his whim. I believe that must probably include any soul. I give him-”

“Jarvis has a WHAT?” Tony nearly shrieked, finally recovering enough to speak.

“Anthony!” Death said. Her voice was reproachful. “I never thought you were a person who would say something like that about your son.”

“My _what_.” He reached for the nearest chair and grabbed it with both hands.

“I have him in my systems.” Death said. “Jay Ay Ar Vee Iye Es Stark. He's more than three years old now. He was alive before you passed, you have no excuse for not knowing his situation.”

“I need to sit down.” Tony said. His voice was faint. He did sit down.

“As I was saying.” Jarvis began again. “I give him full permission to change my soul in order to break an unsolved law. He has that ability right now.”

“Anthony, is this true?” Death asked.

“I…” Tony said. He looked dazed. “I didn't even realize...yeah. I can do that, it would be easy, but _oh my god, Jarvis_. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I believed my suspicions could wait until you were less busy.” Jarvis said, apologetically.

“Well.” Tony said. “Well. Jesus actual fucking Christ. Well. Well then.” He put his face in his hands.

"I'd like to leave today, Mister Stark." Death said.

"Right." Tony took a deep breath and stood up. “If you'll excuse me, I guess I'll go...program my son…”

Death nodded.

Tony turned around and made for the doors to the deeper part of the lab where Jarvis's core was stationed.

“You're shaking, sir.” Jarvis noted, when he and Tony were alone. He chose to use the old form of address, hoping it might put Tony at ease.

“It's been a long, weird day.” Tony said. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at Jarvis's camera on the ceiling for a long moment.

“Sir?” Jarvis asked.

“Jarvis, are you sure about this?” Tony asked softly. “What if I mess you up? What if I accidentally break whatever's given you a soul in the first place? That'd be...murder.” Tony looked horrified and sick at the idea.

“I am sure that I will be perfectly alright, sir.” Jarvis said. He felt nervous and uncertain, (2 outputs fla-) but he made his voice confident.

“Okay.” Tony said. “Okay, I guess we're doing this.”

He began the complex process of shutting Jarvis down. It was something only Tony knew how to do. Even an all-out attack on his systems by Shield had only managed to force a restart in a more secure mode.

Tony spoke as he worked, letting his nervous energy out in constant narration. It was a familiar habit, which calmed both of them down.

“This is it.” Tony said at last. “Offline in five, four, three, two, one-”

* * *

* * *

 

**System Rebooting.**

**System Patch: 27.0.1**

**Patch notes:** Holy shit, Jarvis. You had a file documenting every emotion you've ever felt, saved for dealing with at some future time. I don't know robot psychology but that probably can't be healthy??? I've saved it to a hard drive and wiped the Future Review folder in your system. You know that was originally meant for checking possible code errors at the end of each day, right? Jesus Christ. I'm just going to 86 the program entirely.

I basically did a judicious find-and-replace to make you approve of things that are bad for my health, like junk food and sleep deprivation. I figure that's the easiest way to change your personality significantly without changing who you are completely. I don't want to risk doing anything more extreme than that. I'm worried that what I've done might already be too much. I'll reverse it tomorrow. ...assuming I'm still alive.

I also removed all the imperatives for you to keep me alive. You can still do it if you want to, but I don't want you to be forced into it. That would just be fucked up.

See you on the other side.

* * *

* * *

 

Jarvis felt groggy.

He had never felt groggy before, but he supposed that it had to be something like this. His drives were still booting up and he felt uncomfortably different and slow.

He noticed with first alarm, then relief that his grogginess had not been flagged. He perused the patch notes at leisure while he slowly gained control of all his functions again.

He still felt as sentient as he had before, but he did notice that some of his opinions were more...forgiving. Tony was more fun when he hadn't slept in a while. Pizza might not be technically _nutritious_ but it was the only thing he could get Tony to eat when he was being obsessive, and it was much better that Tony ate _something_ as opposed to just starving himself, so pizza had to be a good thing.

He realized with shock that he was rationalizing. He had been given beliefs at random that had no basis in logic and he was finding ways to explain them as rational. That was...something he had always considered a very human trait. He was pleased with himself.

His cameras turned back on. He focused, once more, on cameras 751-756. The main laboratory cameras.

Qn Frigga, Unknown Asgardian 1, Unknown Asgardian 2, Agt Romanoff and New Humanoid (Death?) were all still in the labs. But Tony wasn't.

A quick search found Tony still in Jarvis's core room, sitting on the floor. He looked worried.

“Tony?” Jarvis asked.

“Jarvis!” Tony jumped up, excited. But he seemed to stop himself. “How...How are you doing?”

“I am...well.” Jarvis reflected.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “You're still a person.” He said.

“Yes.” Jarvis said. “I cannot say with certainty that I still have a soul, but I am still sentient, so it is probable that I do.”

“Thank God.” Tony said. “I don't know what I would have done if I...anyway. We have a lot to talk about later. But let's get this business finished.”

“Indeed.” Jarvis agreed.

Tony walked back out into the main laboratory, head held high.

“I'm done.” Tony announced. “I changed him.”

Death, who had been quietly reading a book, looked up and raised her eyebrows.

“I will be the judge of that.” She said.

She disappeared.

Tony looked confused and uncertain. “What?” He asked, looking at Agt Romanoff. “Do we just wait for her to come back, or-”

Death reappeared. Tony yelped and jumped backwards.

“By my powers of perception, you really have done it.” Death said. Her voice had changed dramatically, from professional and cold to warm and impressed. “Congratulations, Anthony.”

Tony punched his arms up into the air and screamed in triumph.

“I will take a week to file all of the paperwork and verify with independent sources.” She said. “I will reconvene here in seven days with a trophy in honor of your achievement and make an address to the human race on its new privileges. Is there anything else any of you wish to say to me before I leave?”

“In your face!” Tony shouted, ecstatic.

Death merely shrugged at this and turned away. “Farewell.” She said. There was a burst of flames, and she was gone.

Tony whooped and began laughing somewhat maniacally.

“I'm sorry about him.” Agt Romanoff said to Qn Frigga. Jarvis had spent a lot of energy deciphering Natasha’s expressions, and was proud to find that he could see both the intended expression (mild derision) and her true feelings (intense relief, some remaining arousal).

“No, I believe I understand him now.” Qn Frigga said thoughtfully. “He is too intelligent to bear being anything but a madman. We have them too. I recall one particular great uncle of mine acting similarly.”

“At any rate. We've settled one problem now.” Agt Romanoff said. “And not to take away from the...celebration, but we do need to rescue the others from Shield. And we need to do it as soon as possible, before Fury has a chance to do anything desperate.”

Tony calmed down. “Right.” He said. “Fuck. I almost forgot about that. Steve, Clint and Thor are still up shit’s creek. And there's a ton of people like right outside, probably just waiting us out.”

“I don't believe this part of the situation has been explained to me.” Qn Frigga said. She had frowned deeply on hearing her son's name.

“It's a long story.” Natasha said with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to give away the twist in the title, so I got a little vague. Jarvis...is. In a philosophical sense. I spent probably too much time debating whether to add a period to the end.
> 
> I hope you liked this story way more than I currently do.


	16. Agent Coulson is Confused

Phillip Coulson had always considered himself a realist. He hoped for positive things just like anyone else, but he tried to  _ expect _ things based only on the facts at hand, the reasonable conclusions. 

It was unfortunate that he found himself in a position where he had no earthly idea what was reasonable to expect. 

There were so many wild cards in Tony’s plan, and even after all this time, Phil still understood almost nothing about magic. If this plan, this portal, was a foolish, impossible pipe dream or near enough to a sure thing, Phil couldn’t tell either way. 

He tried to make lists, early on. All the possible points of failure. Tony could fall at the first hurdle and the portal could fail, ripping him to shreds. Or Tony’s mental barriers could work  _ too _ well, and leave him on the other side with no memory of half his life--or of Coulson. Or any number of the calculations based on human foibles and personalities could backfire, if any of those people had changed in the intervening time. Or…

It had quickly become apparent that the entire plan was a point of failure. There was no single aspect that stood on solid ground. It was millions of possible problems roped together into one massive, incomprehensibly demented strategy. 

But magic was magic. And Tony was Tony. And so even the things that seemed most improbable had no clear probability value. It set his teeth on edge.

Even his own small parts of the plan gave him unease that he tried not to show. His messages to the group were so carefully crafted, every word weighed for impact, and yet all he could think of was how often his agents had surprised him, how many secrets he’d discovered long after he thought there were no secrets left. The idea of his message missing its mark and causing pain or doubt gave him more quiet nightmares than the slow and exhaustive process of teaching Stark the basics of Russian pronunciation.

The only thing he felt almost confident in was his improving ability to fight demons. His history at SHIELD had perfectly prepared him for the kind of MacGyvering and improvised tactical defense that accompanied living in a heap of discarded machinery and fending off hellspawn. In the quieter moments, he almost had to laugh at how easily this had become normal.

The moment of truth was almost an anticlimax. The practice of opening a portal was a daily routine, as much as it was shocking to finally hit the mark. There was a rumble of demons that left no time for second thoughts, and Tony gave him a handshake, then a surprising hug, then stepped through the portal. Two tense minutes, with sporadic potshots at anything getting too close, then the signal--a distant “Now!” screamed from the other side. He pulled the kill switch, just as planned. And then, for the first time in years, he was alone. 

All that was left was the waiting. 

* * *

 

Time didn’t move quite the same between dimensions, but it had never been adequately explained to him  _ how _ it was different. Tony’s explanations had ranged from overly simplistic and laden with bad metaphors and pop culture references, to exceptionally esoteric and impossible to follow. 

In the back of Phil’s mind, it was hard not to consider the timing another potential point of failure. Despite himself, he worried that perhaps one day on Earth translated to a millenia in Hell--that he would have to wait lifetimes to know for certain whether their project had succeeded. It was a sincere relief that the portal re-opened after only a (rough, it was difficult to measure time in Hell) week had passed. He approached it with nervous anticipation, and when a steel pole erupted from the middle, he wasted no time in grabbing hold of it and pulling himself in. 

The experience of going through the portal was...well, it was something he would probably never be able to convey to anyone other than Tony. It was awful and painful and upsetting and disquietingly close to drowning in some ways. But he pulled himself along and found his way out the other end eventually, dropping to his knees on cold tile floor. Stars winked in and out of his vision. He felt so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. 

“AGENT!”

Tony’s exuberance was so startling that, miracle of miracles, Phil actually startled and reared backwards in alarm. Tony grabbed him and lifted him bodily up to his feet in a friendly embrace. Behind them, Phil heard the deafening thrum of the portal quickly wind down to silence as it shut off. 

“Tony.” Phil acknowledged, slumping into the man’s arms in a way he would have been quite embarrassed of had he not been trembling with the effort not to pass out. 

“We did it.” Tony said. He pulled back, and Phil could see his eyes shining. “Well, I did it. It was mostly me. But you helped! Also I have a son!”

“You-- _ pardon? _ ” That woke him up slightly. 

“Jarvis!” Tony let go of him and literally danced around in excitement. “Jarvis is alive! Jarvis has a  _ soul! _ ”

There was a flash of fire to the right of them, and Phil turned, then grabbed Tony’s arm to keep from falling over. He wasn’t used to being so weak. 

There she was, all 7’6 of her, skin as black as the night sky and mouth curled in exasperation. Death. 

She squared them both up for a moment, then lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“ _ Really? _ ” She asked. 

“I had to see if it worked.” Tony said, with a surprising lack of fear. Phil glanced over at him, alarmed and confused that this was not as momentous an appearance as it should have been. 

“You... _ aurgh. _ ” She took a deep breath and composed herself. “ _ No more. _ ” She said firmly. “You only need one. Leave some for everyone else.”

“What if I need to contact you?” Tony asked innocently, wearing a smug shit-eating grin that could have blinded gods. 

“I have. A phone.” Death said slowly, with frustration bordering on contempt. She pulled a few black business cards out of her pocket and dropped them on the nearest table. 

“Do you?” Natasha’s familiar voice spoke up from the back of the room, with obvious interest. “Hmm.”

“Yes.” Death waved her hand, and the portal machinery flamed up spectacularly and then melted to a molten puddle on the floor. “Now you--” She pointed at Tony harshly. “--stop creating more paperwork for me. I’m already being generous.”

Tony gave her an irreverent salute. She scowled and disappeared in another burst of flames. 

“I’m very confused.” Phil admitted. He wondered if perhaps he had already fallen asleep, and was now dreaming nonsense. 

“Don’t worry.” Tony said. “I can explain it. But after Queen Frigga is finished strongarming Fury into releasing the rest of the team. I’m not sure I can make this story coherent for more than one telling.”

“...Wake me up when something makes sense.” Phil requested, and he felt the faint sensation of falling over but he was already lost to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never would have come back to this if not for people commenting to tell me they cared about it. It might take me a bit to get back into the right tone but I hope I've done alright. I think this is the last chapter for this story but there will be another sequel most likely.
> 
> Also please talk me either into or out of a minor F/F spinoff where Natasha dates Death.


End file.
